Demons of the Past
by Arwen1604
Summary: Sequel to 'Christine'. Erik and Christine have just settled down to enjoy the happiness they both deserve. But will Erik be able to confront a past that he has denied? Will it be his undoing...and Christine's? Can the past truly die? COMPLETE
1. Nightmares

**Demons of the Past**

**Summary:** Erik and Christine have just managed to find the happiness that they have both so desperately needed; but a past that has never died may find a way to undo them both. Will Erik confront the demons of his past, or will they consume not only him, but his beloved? Can the past truly die? Sequel to 'Christine'

**Ch. 1 Nightmares**

**Author's note:** Hello again everyone! I had fully intended on taking a long break from writing, but I have found that it is absolutely addicting. So I find myself, once again, enthralled in a plot that has been screaming to be put into writing. First, I would like to say that this story is a sequel to my first ever fanfic _Christine_. I would strongly encourage you to read that story first; you will understand the plot components better if you know what's already been done…Second, this fic will concentrate a lot on Erik's background. I have put some thought into his past, and have come up with several ideas. I have not read Susan Kay's 'Phantom', and therefore will not be using any childhood Erik references from her. I will follow the guidelines of the musical and movie-but mainly the movie. And third, thanks for giving this fic a shot. I hope everyone enjoys it; I know that I will have fun writing it.

_Disclaimer: I own nothing except the computer that I'm typing from…_

**P.S.** This story takes place around three months after my previous story.

**P.S. 2** Christine sings a bit from a Coldplay song called 'Fix You'; full lyrics will be used in upcoming chappies.

And now, on with the story…

* * *

Christine hugged her cloak closely to her body as her carriage entered the final stretch to their destination: the Opera Populaire. It had been three months since she had last entered the home of her childhood; and she carried memories, both bad and good, of this place. Here is where she first came with her adopted mother Madam Marie Giry when her father died; here is where she first met her best friend Meg. Here is where she first learned her passions for dance and song; here was where her first dreams of becoming a primma donna began. But more importantly, this Opera House was the place where she had first met her Angel of Music. She remembered the late nights of practice; she remembered his beautiful voice guiding hers. Christine sat, lost in her thoughts. She had been a simple child, yearning for the guiding touch of her father's, and her Angel had provided her with that and much more. _Much more_, Christine thought with a smile, as she looked down on her wedding ring. The events that followed in her memory after her performance as Elissa in Hannibal were shut in a corner of her mind, simply labeled 'Phantom'. She sighed to herself. She had to take the bad memories with the good, for every decision, every choice, right or wrong, had led her to her life today; and so for that, she was grateful to the so called 'Phantom'. Her Erik, her husband…he was not the Phantom. Nor would he ever be again, she was sure. She loved Erik, more than her own life, and would do anything for him. Which brought her to the reason for her visit today to the Opera Populaire. She had come in search of Madam Giry. Only she would be able to help her. _And if she can't, then God help me_, Christine thought miserably.

* * *

Erik sat alone in his music room. Christine had left a short time ago for Paris. He had offered to accompany her, but she had just smiled that infuriating smile of hers. He knew as well as she did that going to Paris, going back to the place that still hunts for the Phantom like an animal, is in a word: unwise. Erik knew that eventually all would calm down. After all, everyone believed that the Phantom of the Opera was a fable; a ghost story that the older ballerinas told to the younger ones to scare them. He smiled, remembering the story-telling voice that Meg use to get when she would tell the other ballerinas of her numerous 'almost' Phantom sightings. He looked down at his piano. It was covered in paper half printed in musical notes. He sighed in frustration. Erik just couldn't seem to get the last part that he needed written. It was eluding him, which always irritated him to an extreme. The answer, of course, would be something painfully obvious. Erik stood from his seat and walked over to his desk, unable to think upon his music at the moment. He desperately needed a distraction. With Christine gone, there was a loneliness in the air that was unbearable. Erik shook his head. He had lived in solitude for most of his life; and now, married not quite three months, he couldn't stand the thought of being without her. Erik looked over the cluttered desk. He smiled as he picked up a red rose; no doubt from the garden outside. There was a note attached: _Later, dearest_. The wave of loneliness intensified and ran through his body, and he set the rose to the side. Erik sat at his desk, and pulled out a letter that was addressed two weeks prior. Erik reread the letter, his eyes plotting and cool.

Monsieur Erik Massenet:

Thank you for the kind words of encouragement. Running an Opera House is in itself a huge responsibility, especially with the debt that was left by both the previous owners; it is thereby my great pleasure to inform you that I have thought upon your words, and would greatly appreciate your involvement in the Opera Populaire as 'patron'. I have looked over the scores that you sent, as well as M. Reyer, our leading maestro. We both agree that they are genius, and we would be honored if you would allow us to perform your works in our humble Opera House. I cannot express to you how heartening your letters have been. Your suggestions on the rebuilding of the Opera House were flawless; you must be a skilled architect, Monsieur.

I invite you to write me your response at your leisure; this is an awesome responsibility that I have offered you, and one to be carefully considered. I await your response, and hope to one day meet in person.

Sincerely yours;

M. Stefan Javere

Erik had sent Monsieur Javere several letters. He had introduced himself as a gentleman with a passion for the arts, and merely wanted to offer a few suggestions that may help him in his attempts to reestablished order in the Opera House. Erik could see the ironic nature in this: he himself being the man responsible for the destruction and chaos surrounding the Opera Populaire. _What better way to right the wrongs that you have done than by giving back to the place that was your home? That was Christine's home? _He tried to tell himself that these were the reasons for his interest in the Opera House, but he was only part right. What he really wanted was power. He wanted power over those fools who had mocked him, who had mobbed him, who had degraded his home, who had defiled his art. And as he read over the letter in his hand, he realized that he had it. Erik was acting like a respectable gentleman in society, and it had given him more power than he had ever had as the Phantom. The Phantom's power came from fear; and Erik had thought at the time that power was power. However, he realized now that the power he commanded with his money, with his art, with his intellect, was more resonant than anything that he had been able to accomplish with fear. M. Javere responded to all his letters; he was always polite, and even asked his suggestions on things. His…other letters to the managers of the Opera Populaire were not well received.

The real question, as had been the question since he first received this letter two weeks ago, had been what would his response should be. Erik wanted to invest his money in something he knew would bring capital in, and the Opera House had always been a lucrative investment…and he would love to have his works performed for Paris; his passion would fill the ears and hearts of all who heard, especially if Christine were to be the one to sing…and as patron he could influence the manager's…artistic choices. But there, in the dark corner of his mind, lurked the main thing holding him back. He could pretend to be the gentleman, could pretend to be proper and respectable, but eventually he would have to meet his manager face-to-face. What would be the response? What would the other people in the Opera House think? Erik closed his eyes in frustration. It always ended like this. He was finally happy; happier than he thought he deserved. But there was always the nagging realization that he would never be able to function as a normal man.

It didn't matter to Christine that he wasn't normal. But it did to him! It mattered to him that he was sitting at home, alone, missing Christine because he could not go with her! He threw his hands across the desk in frustration, scattering all the papers and various objects across his room. He was stuck…there was no other choice for him…he would always be the one left behind…Erik eyed his piano, and his eyes widened suddenly. _That's it! I've thought of it!_ He ran across the room, scattering more things that were in his way, and started playing furiously. He lost himself completely…and that was always a good thing when he felt trapped…

* * *

Christine entered the Opera Populaire, allowing the familiar feelings rush her. Her eyes swept over the entry hall, and she immediately turned and headed toward the stage. She anticipated that Madam Giry would be rehearsing the new ballet girls; and her instinct was correct. She stayed in the background, and watched her foster mother instruct the girls with her sharp words, demonstrations, and, as a last resort, her cane.

"Ah, my girls, it's not right, not right…but it is better. Break for ten minutes, and come back with more motivation! I can't teach you if you don't want to be taught…" Madam Giry half berated, half encouraged the ballet girls. They left the stage, and Madam Giry stood alone for a moment, leaning on her cane. Christine came forward.

"Madam, perhaps you should sit a moment! Have you worked yourself to death, and me not around to stop you?"

"Christine!" Madam Giry whirled forward toward the petite girl, and embraced her in a large hug. "Oh my dear, it has been too long! I have missed you so!"

"And I you, Madam," Christine's eyes started to mist a little. She had not seen her foster mother in at least a month, and now she was here with troubling news, rather than just coming for a pleasure visit; Christine felt a twinge of guilt. Madam Giry glanced at her.

"My dear, you look horrible! You look as if you have not slept in weeks! Is there something wrong?" Madam Giry lowered her voice. "Is it Erik?"

"It's…hard to explain. I just need to talk to you. Alone, and in private. Can I? I'll wait as long as I need to…"

"Of course, child! Meg can take over this class, I'm sure of it…" Madam Giry hurried forward, looking for her daughter. Christine was left alone on the stage. She looked at the orchestra in the pit, preparing to practice. She nodded at M. Reyer, who smiled. She leaned forward a little to see what they were about to practice. Christine's eyes went wide in recognition. The piece was one of Erik's own: La Rose et la Nuit. It was one of Christine's personal favorites. She smiled at herself; she hoped that Erik would truly consider what being a patron to this place could mean for them. She knew that it would make him happy; he just didn't know it yet. He was so stubborn. Her thoughts went to her husband. She loved him dearly, but he was still so sheltered; there was still a barrier that he would not let down. Her thoughts were interrupted as she felt someone approach.

"Mademoiselle? I don't think I've met you, and I believe that I have met everyone here in the Opera House…are you new here?" Christine turned toward the voice to discover a tall man with a genuine smile playing on his face. He was an older gentleman, but his eyes were a piercing blue. Christine offered her hand, which held her wedding ring.

"Madam, actually, Monsieur, Christine Massenet. It is an honor."

"Ah, Madam Massenet! I am in correspondence with your husband, Erik! I am Stefan Javere, the new manager here at the Opera Populaire. The honor is all mine, Madam. What brings you to our humble theater?"

"I am visiting my dear friend and foster mother, Madam Giry. I do hope that I am not interrupting anything." Christine glanced to the exit of the stage that Madam Giry had used, hoping to see her, but she had not returned.

"Foster mother, did you say…pardon me if this seems bold, but are you the former Christine Daae? The primma donna?" Christine blushed and bowed her head.

"I was for a time, Monsieur. It was my dream to sing…I hope to return soon."

"Well, you are always welcomed here, Madam. Always."

M. Javere kissed her hand, and politely bowed. Christine was instantly enchanted by the man. M. Javere's eyes sparkled as he led Christine to the side of the stage.

"As you can see, the reconstruction of the theater is nearly complete. Our first Opera will be performed in a matter of weeks, if all goes well with your husband…we wish to perform La Rose et la Nuit. It would be a wonderful opener to the season."

"Oh that's wonderful, Monsieur! I am sure that he will be honored…" Christine was surprised by the straightforwardness of the man's words. Javere did not mince words when he was trying to make a point. Christine found it refreshing.

"Frankly, I was wondering whether this 'Phantom of the Opera' business was keeping him from joining our little investment here." Christine nearly choked. She quickly covered her shock with a little cough.

"What do you mean, Monsieur?"

"Well, all this nonsense about a ghost…all I have heard since I came here was to beware the Opera Ghost…I just find it all poppycock! The man who shattered the chandelier was deranged, true…but the papers say that the culprit was killed. And I certainly don't believe in apparitions. The former managers warned me of receiving letters and notes demanding anything from soprano changes in the middle of the season to extravagant sums of money. Madam, I have been here three months, and the only letters that I have received have been from your good husband! And to be frank, I don't know what I would have done without his suggestions. Your husband must be a genius, Madam, sheer genius. I look forward to meeting him."

"Well, then Monsieur, surely you will grant us the pleasure of your presence at dinner one afternoon? You could meet my husband, hear more of his work…"

"Madam I would be delighted! Simply delighted! I shall make arrangements! How's tomorrow for you, my dear?" Christine nodded her agreement, and M. Javere begged leave to set up the arrangements. As he left, Christine knew that Erik was going to simply kill her. _I am putting him through an ordeal by fire, but he must do it…and I will be with him the whole time…perhaps he will find that not all people own pitchforks and torches… _

Madam Giry came toward Christine. She had obviously overheard her conversation with M. Javere, and she had a very disapproving look on her face.

"Christine, are you sure that was wise? You know how Erik is…"

"Madam, I had to! He's been contemplating this patronage for weeks! Erik must stop living in the past; he must prepare for his future. He can do this, I know." Christine stood her ground firmly. Madam Giry sighed.

"Of course, dear. If you say so…"

"Plus, I would be honored if you and Meg were present as well. It would put Erik more at ease."

"We will come, Christine, but now we need to concentrate on why you are here. I only have an hour or so. Please, follow me to my room."

Christine felt the heaviness that was starting to lift from her heart settle back against it. _How can I explain this? The problem is so delicate and difficult…and I hope there's a solution…_

* * *

"It's the nightmares, Madam. I can't stop the nightmares, and I don't know what to do to help him…" Christine spoke with a frightened voice. Madam Giry leaned in.

"What do you mean, child?"

"The nightmares, there always the same…"

* * *

Christine was just about to fall asleep. Her bedroom was dark and relaxing, and the weight and heat of the body next to her ensured that she would be comfortable. She moved closer to Erik, and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. Erik sighed in his sleep, and Christine could feel the contentment surrounding her. She closed her eyes, ready for the deep sleep to claim her. Beside her, Erik twitched in his sleep. Christine opened her eyes again, to make sure everything was all right. Erik didn't move again. Christine moved closer to him, comforting him. Suddenly, Erik seized up, his whole body shaking uncontrollably. Christine stumbled out of bed awkwardly, and stared in horror as her husband thrashed violently on the bed.

"Erik! ERIK! Wake up!" Christine rushed forward, trying to shake him awake. Erik's eyes flew open, and he looked wildly about. He rose from the bed quickly. He moved toward her, his arms outstretched.

"Erik! What are you doing? Are you awake? Erik!" He came towards her, and fell to his knees.

"Please…please…don't do this to me…I'm your son…I'M YOUR SON!" Erik's voice rose to a scream, and Christine slapped him across the face.

"Wake up, Erik! Please!" But Erik had recoiled as soon as her hand hit his face. He went into a corner of the bedroom, and curled into a ball.

"No…no more pain…I'll do anything you ask…no more…" Christine was horrified. She hadn't meant to hit him. She went forward to him. He flinched, and tried to pull away. Christine held him, and crooned to him:

**Lights will guide you home and ignite your bones  
****And I will try to fix you**

He calmed at her voice. She helped him back into the bed, and he slept the rest of the night. Christine was afraid of another fit, and she fell into a restless sleep.

When Erik awoke the next morning, he had no memory of the night before.

* * *

"And it's like that, at least twice a week. I don't know when to expect it…it happens sometimes as soon as we retire, and sometimes it happens right before dawn. He always screams at his mother, he screams at crowds of people, he screams as people beat him…and he has no recollection. None. He wakes up, perfectly refreshed and rested. I tried to ask him about it, but he says I'm just being silly…that I'm the one dreaming…but it's driving me crazy! It has to stop!" Christine's voice rose to hysterics. She clutched Madam Giry.

"What do I do? I don't know anything about his past…but you do! You must help me."

Madam Giry stared at Christine for a moment. She looked into her tired, worried eyes. She sighed.

"Christine, I don't pretend to be some kind of expert. Erik has never opened up about his past. I know that he was in the traveling gypsy fair because I rescued him from it. The only other thing that I know is that his mother is the one that gave him to the gypsies in the first place. He's suppressed his past for so long…it appears that it is finally catching up with him. First, I think that he needs to talk about it. You have to get him to open up."

"What if that doesn't work?" Christine asked cautiously.

"Well, we will have to cross that when we get there…"

* * *

Erik was engrossed in his work. He was surrounded by chaos, but all that mattered was the chaos that he was playing on the piano. It was an exciting piece, and his heart was racing along with the rhythm that his fingers played. It was right! This is what he was waiting for! He stopped playing as he reached the end. He closed his eyes, and leaned back against the wall. He was therefore a bit shocked when he heard clapping.

He glanced up to see Christine slouched against the doorframe of the music room. Her eyes were on him, but then they spread to look at the rest of the room. She didn't look shocked at all. Erik smiled. She was getting used to him…Erik let his eyes travel over her. Her hair was mused from her trip, and her dress was her finest, but it was wrinkled. Her only jewelry was his ring. She looked tired and worn…and she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"How long have you been standing there, Christine?" Erik rose from his seat by the piano, and walked toward her.

"Long enough to know that what you were playing was the best that I've heard…" Christine smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Did you miss me?"

"More than you know." Erik bent his head down, and kissed her passionately. He was caught up in her: her scent was that of crushed roses, her hair was soft and silky, her skin…"Look's like you missed me too."

"Of course, love." Christine smiled up at him, and touched his cheek. She then gestured around the room. "And what did you do in here? Host a party in my absence?"

Erik scowled and turned away. He bent over and started picking the papers up. "I don't have to explain everything that I do…I was bored, and thought I'd give you something to do when you got home."

"Oh, how nice of you! What a great welcome home present…" Christine went to move beside him, to help, but he pushed her away.

"I'll clean it up…," he said in a low growl. Christine smiled in triumph.

"Thank you, Angel!" She turned to leave the room, and saw the note from M. Javere lying on the floor. She reached and picked it up.

"Erik, have you made a decision yet? About the patronage?" Christine asked timidly.

"Let's not talk about that right now…I'm hungry, Christine." Erik tried his whiny voice, and Christine laughed.

"That doesn't work anymore! You have to help!"

"Fine, fine!" With that, Erik rose swiftly from the floor and scooped Christine up. She shrieked and kicked a bit, but Erik kissed her softly, and she quit her struggling.

"See, I always have the upper hand…" Erik carried her to the kitchen.

"Oh Erik…" Christine murmured into his shirt. She was regretting her rash decision to invite M. Javere to dinner. How was Erik going to take the news?

* * *

They sat in the small eating area in the kitchen, their backs to the windows that displayed a beautiful sunset. They ate in relative silence; and Erik found this very suspicious. Normally Christine would be talking his ear off about one thing or another; but she just sat quietly, picking at her food, barely eating. Erik finally pushed his plate forward and grabbed her hand.

"Christine, what's wrong? I've never known you to be this quiet…did something happen on your visit to see Marie? Is she well?" Erik was concerned. He didn't know what was going on, but he hoped it did not involve Marie or her daughter being ill or having some kind of misfortune. Christine shook her head slightly.

"No, and as a matter of fact, Madam Giry and Meg are joining us for dinner tomorrow…"

"That's nice; I haven't seen them in a while. Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Because M. Javere is _also_ joining us for dinner tomorrow…" Christine held her breath, waiting for his reaction. She didn't have to wait long.

"WHAT! Christine, what did you do! He's coming here, tomorrow? How could you do that to me! I don't want him in my home…I haven't even decided whether to take the patronage he's offered…" Erik put his face in his hands, then slowly brought them up to massage away the headache that had formed. He felt such pressure that he could barely hear what Christine said in response.

"Yes you have, don't lie to me…or yourself! You're just worried about meeting him face to face, and so I thought that if you were to meet him here, away from Paris and the Opera House, that maybe it would be easier for you. That is why Madam Giry and Meg are coming as well. You'll be surrounded by people who love you, Erik. You'll do fine." Christine leaned forward to touch his arm, but Erik rose sharply from his chair, away from her.

"You have no idea what I go through…you know nothing, Christine! This is not something that can be made easier simply because I feel more comfortable in my own home! This is the deal breaker, Christine. When Javere sees me…when he sees my face…he will not want me as a patron, whether I accept or not! Do you believe that he is a smart man, my dear? Do you think that he would be able to put two and two together and come up with the right answer? It's not a far stretch to piece together that I was the Phantom of the Opera. I am the man responsible for all his current hardships." Erik turned away, and headed toward the front door. Christine followed him.

"He doesn't believe in the Opera Ghost! He thinks it's all just stories…and not all people will judge you on your looks, Erik! M. Reyer is already rehearsing your La Rose et la Nuit…they just wait your approval. Your appearance won't matter, my love…merely your mind and heart."

"What do you know? You know nothing! My own mother couldn't stand the look of me; she herself sold me to the gypsies! I didn't live most of my life under an Opera House for my health! I was shamed into solitude. How can you say that looks don't matter…you know nothing!" Erik reached for his cloak, which hung from a hook by the door. He started to put it on when Christine touched his shoulder.

"I know nothing because you tell me nothing! You act as a martyr. I can bear your burdens! Tell me what has happened to you! It could end the horrible nightmares…" Christine's voice trailed off as her husband's face twisted in such rage as she had never seen. She stepped back.

"I don't have nightmares!" Erik leaned forward to look Christine directly in the eye. "You may be able to bear my burdens, but I would never expect you to bear my scars…and that is what you are asking! The things that I have seen, the places I have been, the things that I have done, the things done to me…no other person needs to experience that, least of all you! You are the one person I care about more than anything. You ask because you know nothing. You wish me to poison you, Christine, and I refuse. I need some silence…I'm going out!" Erik reached for the door, and was halfway outside when Christine spoke again.

"I already bear some of your scars! I experience what you have through your nightmares! If I didn't, then how do I know that Anita was your mother's name? How do I know that Faza was the name of the gypsy that kept you as the 'Devil's Child', that you eventually killed? How do I know these things, if you do not speak of them as you dream? Do you think it better for me to hear you scream as you dream of being whipped and tortured?" Christine's voice was but a whisper, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Erik's response was deadly and cold.

"You know nothing"


	2. Escape

**Demons of the Past**

**Ch. 2 Escape**

**Author's note:** Well, I hope that everyone enjoyed the last chapter. I hate it when Christine and Erik fight…but then they get to make up! Lol. Please review! Thanks!

_Disclaimer: I love the Phantom of the Opera (although not particularly Raoul) but it doesn't mean I own it. (insert sad face)_

**P.S.** Erik sings a bit from Evanescence "Imaginary", and Christine sings the lyrics to Coldplay's new song "Fix You". If you haven't heard it, it's really good…

And now, on with the story…

* * *

Erik was burning with rage as he made his way through the forest. He was walking as fast as he could away from the house. Somehow, his mind told him that if he could get away from his home and wife for a moment, then the problems would fix themselves. There were too many problems, and he couldn't fix them. He couldn't solve his own damn problems! It was infuriating! Erik lifted his head to the sky, watching as the purples of the sky slowly faded to black as twilight faded into night. He welcomed the cold darkness; it matched the cold feeling in his soul. He felt a chill, and he pulled his cloak closer to him, even though he knew the chill had nothing to do with the elements. He started to pull the hood of his cloak up over his head when his hand brushed the bare side of his right cheek…he realized that he was maskless! Why was he maskless? Christine…Christine always insisted that when it was just the two of them that he not wear his mask to cover the horrible deformity that ruined his life. Curse her! Why did she have to care so much? Erik started to run through the trees, desperate to get to his spot.

Erik's spot was a large solitary rock that protruded out over a river flowing gently through his property. He reached it swiftly, and moved to the edge of the rock, dangling his feet over the surface of the river. The river was calm tonight; it began to make Erik feel better. Erik bent low over the water, and sang into its clear depths:

**Don't say I'm out of touch  
****With this rampant chaos, your reality  
****I know well what lies behind my sleeping refugee…  
****The nightmare I built my own world to escape!**

Erik sighed. "Christine…" He thought about his life up until the point that he had met her. His only escape from the world was to build his own world, where he was master. Just because he lived a fantasy didn't mean that he did not know what lied just beyond his lair…Erik had lived in the Kingdom of Music, where music could be his escape. Even when he had been a small child in the gypsy camp he had kept a small monkey with cymbals on his hands; he would tap them together to hear the simple music that soothed him. He would sing made up songs to himself when he hurt too much to sleep; and that was most every night. Music was the one thing in his life that had been constant; even when he hadn't had music making means he had his voice. Music kept him sane in all his years of solitude, only to be undone by love. No, not love…obsession. He obsessed over everything: his music, his art, his lyrics; therefore it certainly wasn't a big leap for him to become obsessed with his love for Christine. Obsession had cost him everything: his home, his safety. What he wouldn't give to go back! What he wouldn't give to know the things that he knew now back in his past…

As soon as Erik thought this, he immediately felt a wave of crushing guilt course through his body. Christine. That is what he had now, and no matter how he might wish to go back to a past and home where he felt completely in control, he would never trade what he had with Christine. She was the weight that kept his soul sane; she was the sole reason for his existence. _And how do you repay her? You deny her…you run from her…you make her weep…_Erik swallowed the sob that threatened to spill from his mouth. What had he done in his rage? What had he said? Erik didn't know, and all he could do was sit on his rock and look at the river. Every ounce of his being wanted to rush back to her, drop on bended knee, and beg her forgiveness a thousand times. But his pride wouldn't let him. He was poisoning their love…not by his face, but by his refusal to swallow his own pride and let the last barriers down in his mind. He had promised himself to her on their wedding day: his mind, soul, heart and body. But he had still not let her see a past that was too much for him to bear…and he was so tired of carrying it alone…

In the last fading light of the day, Erik leaned over and stared at his reflection in the water. His green-blue eyes studied his reflection critically. He found the left side smooth and handsome, while the right was a mass of bumps and crevices, exposed veins adding a reddish tint to his skin. He flung his hand into the water, distorting his image. When it returned, he leaned down once more, torturing himself with his own reflection, when he saw part of Christine's face covering his right side. He gasped and spun directly around. Christine was standing directly over him.

She was breathing hard, obviously from running in the woods. Her dress was torn and dirty, and she had several bloody scratches, including one on her cheek. Christine just stood there, surveying Erik's blue-green eyes with her own chocolate ones. She finally dropped to the ground in front of him, and grabbed his hands between her own.

Christine started to sing, and her angel voice filled the night.

**When you try your best but you don't succeed,  
when you get what you want but not what you need,  
when you feel so tired but you can't sleep  
stuck in reverse **

When the tears come streaming down your face,  
when you lose something you can't replace,  
when you love someone but it goes to waste  
could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home  
and ignite your bones  
and I will try to fix you.

High up above or down below,  
when you're too in love to let it go,  
if you never try you'll never know,  
just watch and learn.

Lights will guide you home!

She finished as suddenly as she began, and Erik thought his heart would break in the silence. Erik looked at Christine, and then quickly looked down at his hands still entwined in hers.

"How can you love me so much? I can't protect you from myself. I've tried, but I can't keep my wretched existence from tarnishing yours. I don't deserve you, Christine, and I never will…" Erik looked mournfully away, back toward the river and its calming waters.

Christine reached her hand to turn his face back towards her own.

"Erik, you're my soul mate. I love you more than you will ever know…but you have to stop this self loathing. You said to me once that you wanted me to lead you from your solitude. Do you truly want that, my love? Do you truly want me to show you what it is to live in the light, and not the darkness? Your soul…it has been damaged. But I can heal it; I can fix it. You have lived your life as a creature of darkness, and you are alone no longer."

Christine cupped his cheek in her hand, and Erik nuzzled it.

"I feel so foolish about my outburst…I never meant to hurt you, Christine, I swear! But the world has shown me no compassion-"

"Have _you_ shown the world compassion? By hiding in the dark and wishing you were dead? By cursing anyone able to see your loneliness and emptiness?"

Christine pulled her hand away. Erik looked at Christine in shock. He merely shook his head. "I truly am sorry about my words earlier. You are trying to help me. In all ways. I just want to be normal, Christine. I want to live a normal life in the city. I want to have children and not worry about them being born with a cursed deformity! That's all I want…"

"Are you sure? Do you think that a normal man could compose an opera? Or sing as the Angels sing? Or paint an image so realistic that you would swear it was the real thing? Do you think that I would have fallen in love with just a normal man? No, Erik, you will never be normal, but it is not because of the way you look. You are a genius! I was so proud today when Javere spoke to me about making your opera the season opener! I was happy…but if you can't accept that you must utilize your gifts rather than your curse, then I know that _you_ will never be happy. And you will always be alone."

Christine rose from the ground and stared coldly at Erik. The darkness around them was complete, but Erik could feel the ice in her gaze. Christine turned to go. Erik grabbed her hand.

"Christine…I will meet with Javere tomorrow, and I will accept his offer to become patron. I…don't want to be left in the darkness. I will share with you everything about my past…I just need time, Christine. What you ask of me is a task that could be my undoing; and yet if I don't release my burden then I know that I will lose my sanity. You are so young, Christine. You know nothing of the realities of the world. I wanted to shelter you from them, not expose you to them. The feelings that I am left with in my past are raw and brutal. They will not be pleasant to relive. But I must. And I do it not just for you, but for myself as well."

Christine nodded in acceptance. She pulled him close to her body, embracing him with a fire that was burning for him alone. "You are my strong one, Angel. But sometimes you can be so stubborn…I am sorry that we fought…it was our first married fight."

Erik looked about. They were alone, in the beauty of the night, with the gentle flow of the river and the forest noises merging to become their music of the night. Erik smiled at Christine.

"But now we get to make up…"

And, well, you can use your vivid imagination.

* * *

The next morning dawned bright and cheerful. Erik felt the light from the open window hit his eyes, and he turned and placed his head under his pillow. He groaned. Why must the morning come so soon? He brought his head back up, and glanced at the sleeping angel beside him. Christine's hair was a mess, and her mouth was half open. Erik brought his hand up and gently stroked her curls. She did not stir. _She must have been really tired last night_, Erik thought, with a bit of a roguish grin playing on his lips. Last night had been spectacular. He felt closer to Christine now than he had ever before. Erik kissed her softly on the forehead. This time she peeked at him through half closed lids. She yawned.

"Why so early, Angel…I hate the mornings so…" Christine rose to a sitting position on the bed. She turned and glanced at Erik, who was still lying on his side. He looked at her, the expression on his face a bit tight.

"Did I…have another nightmare, Christine?" His concern was obvious in his voice, but so was the doubt. Christine still did not think that he truly believed that he had nightmares, but she merely shrugged.

"Nothing happened last night…you must have been too tired…" Christine blushed, the reddish glow spreading over her cheeks. Erik laughed.

"What are your plans for today?"

"Well, I want to make a good impression on M. Javere. I want to make sure the house is perfect and dinner is perfect and that you are perfect…" Christine's voice trailed off as Erik swung his feet over the bed to touch the ground. He glanced at her over his shoulder.

"You worry too much. It won't be the dinner or the house that makes Javere change his mind…"

"Erik…please don't say things like that. Have you ever considered just telling him why you wear a mask?" The look he gave her was piercing and angry.

"Oh, I can just see how that would work: 'My dear future manager, the reason that I wear this mask is not because I think I look better in it, but because I have a face of a monster, and if you saw it, you would scream and run in terror.' Yes, Christine, that would work wonderfully," Erik's words dripped in sarcasm.

"Erik…"

"No Christine! Do you think that I haven't considered what I'm going to say when he asks me about it? I mean, if I saw a man wearing a mask, I would probably ask him why he wore it too. It's not like people have a regard for other people's privacy."

Erik sighed and blew out the remaining anger. He turned to face Christine.

"I'm sorry, my Angel. I'm just a little…"

"Nervous."

"No, not nervous!

"Scared?"

"I do not get _scared_, Christine."

"Then what?"

"_Concerned_. I am concerned about what will happen today. I haven't met a single person since we left the Opera, my dear, and with good reason. I don't take well to strangers, and if he were to go back to Paris, speaking of a masked gentleman, then it would be only a matter of time before we had a mob outside our door!"

"Erik, please stop being so pessimistic! Is it too much to think that maybe Javere is an honorable man? How about this scenario, Angel? What if he comes to dinner, meets you, and _still_ wants you as a patron? That is what you want, right?

Erik sighed. "Of course that's what I want…I just don't want anything bad to happen. I could care less what happens to me, but you…think of what would happen, Christine, if I were caught. You would be an object of ridicule and pity. People would not be able to comprehend you _choosing_ to be my wife. It would ruin your life if people knew…"

Christine came to sit beside him on the bed. "It's a good thing, then, that I don't care about _people_…I care about you. If we can't get past a dinner with Javere, then we will never be able to get past the big problems that arise in a marriage…"

She smiled at him, and batted her eyes. "And if all else fails, we _could_ move to Italy. It's so lovely this time a year."

Erik laughed and pulled her into an embrace. "I love you, Angel. What ever would I do without you?"

She pulled away, eyes sparkling. "I don't know, Erik. But we will never have to find out."

* * *

The rest of the day passed in a blur of activity. Erik shut himself away in the music room, partly to stay out of the way, and partly to relieve the tension building in the pit of his stomach. Christine rushed about the house, making sure that everything was still in order. She readied the guest rooms as well, for Madam Giry and Meg were going to stay for a few days. Dinner was set to begin at four o'clock, and Christine was a little shocked when there was a knock at her door at noon. She went to the front entry way, and glanced at herself in the mirror by the door. Her hair was in a handkerchief, and she was covered in dust and dirt. Erik emerged from the music room.

"Is someone at the door?"

Christine nodded.

"Are you going to let them in?"

Christine shook her head, gesturing at her appearance. Erik shrugged, and moved past her to open the door himself.

"Well, you certainly keptme waiting. Was Christine worried about her dress being dirty?" Meg's cheerful head popped in through the door. Christine grinned and ran toward her best friend. Meg threw herself onto Christine, enveloping her in a big hug.

"How did you know?" Christine stepped back from her friend. She looked beautiful, her long blonde locks held back on the sides by a blue ribbon, which matched the blue of her dress perfectly.

"I know you too well, Christine. And Erik! It's so nice to see you…" Meg came forward and extended her hand. Erik smiled and kissed it briefly.

"Nice to see you too, Meg," he said, pleased that she hadn't launched herself at him as she had done with Christine. "Where is Marie?"

"She's arguing with the carriage driver…he won't bring our bags in! Can you believe the nerve? Mother refused to pay him…"

With a scowl, Erik went outside. Sure enough, Madam Giry, her petite frame clutching her cane, was in a heated discussion with the driver of the carriage.

"Look, lady, I'm a carriage driver. I drive carriages, I get paid, and then I drive some more. I don't carry bags in. I am not a luggage carrier, just a driver." The driver was speaking in an elevated voice. "Now, you had better pay me now, or I'll-"

"You'll what, Monsieur?"

The driver turned in surprise. His eyes took in Erik's significantly taller frame, and lingered on his mask. He spoke in a disrespectful tone.

"Me and the lady are just having a little disagreement, Monsieur. It really is none of your concern."

"Well, you see, good Sir, you are having an argument with a woman who I have a great deal of respect for. To hear you speak to her in such a degrading way…do you see where I might have a problem?" Erik started in closer to the driver, his hand going to his side. The driver took several steps backward.

"I see, Monsieur, I see. I will take Madam's bags in…"

"Thank you, Monsieur. I am glad that you see things my way…" The driver moved to the back of the carriage, and got the bags. As he left toward the house, Erik addressed Madam Giry.

"Really, Marie, such arguments are beneath you. I would have been happy to bring in your bags."

Madam Giry smiled at him, and leaned a bit on her cane. "I know you would have, but it was the principal of the matter…you could be so kind as to help me into the house. I am a bit tired from the journey."

Erik looked at her in concern. "Are you feeling well, Marie?" he asked as he offered his arm.

"Yes, I just fear that age is catching up with me a little. So, Erik…I assume that you took the news of this dinner well?" Erik glanced at her with a dark look, and Madam Giry laughed.

"So you took it exactly as I anticipated."

* * *

With Meg's help, Christine finally was able to get everything done that she wanted. Dinner was ready to be served, the dining room looked enchanting, and the fresh flowers from the garden were strewn about the house in vases. Christine was quite proud of what she and Meg had accomplished. Madam Giry and Erik had stayed in the music room, catching up. Christine glanced at the time, and found that M. Javere was due to arrive in half an hour. She yelped.

"Meg, Monsieur Javere will be here shortly! I'm not dressed! Neither is Erik! Meg!" Christine was having a meltdown, and Meg just laughed at her.

"Calm down Christine…I'll finish up in the kitchen, and you go and get Erik. It will be fine…stop being so nervous!"

Christine hurried from the kitchen to the music room. She was about to open the door, when she heard Madam Giry and Erik…_fighting_? She was so surprised that before she knew it, her ear was pressed to the door.

"How can you say that? You, of all people, know what it was like. You were there…you saw…how am I suppose to tell her that? How do I tell her what it was like? I can't do it, Marie, I just can't…I couldn't stand to see the fear and pity in her eyes."

"Erik, you aren't in control of this anymore! You promised Christine! You have to think more of her than that…you did marry her, after all! Do you really think that what you tell her will change her image of you? Christine may be young, Erik, but she knows pain…she was an orphan at seven, for God's sake! If you don't trust her with this, if you don't tell her about your life, then you might as well leave tonight!"

Christine heard a loud crash in the room. She leaned in close to the door.

"Damn you, Marie, that's not what I want! I have longed my whole life for the future that I can see now! Christine, a home, children…I don't want to be alone! What if I tell her my horrors, and she can't take it? What if she leaves me?" Erik choked on the words. Christine's heart felt ready to burst. Did she really leave such doubt in their relationship? _You left him before_, a voice in her head reminded her, _you left him broken and unloved_.

Christine couldn't bear to hear anymore. She knocked on the door. She heard some scrambling in the room, before Madam Giry called "Enter"

Christine poked her head into the room. Erik was standing, his back facing the door. Madam Giry smiled meekly.

"Erik, we need to get dressed for dinner…," Christine said into the sudden silence of the room.

Erik turned, nodded at Christine, and headed out of the room without a word. Madam Giry glanced sharply at Erik's receding back, and then looked at Christine.

"You heard." It was not a question, but a statement.

Christine nodded. She turned to leave.

"Just give him time, dear. That's all he needs."

Christine didn't answer. She left the room, wondering for the first time if this marriage was truly going to work.


	3. Meeting with the Manager

**Demons of the Past**

**Ch. 3 Meeting with the Manager**

**Author's note:** This chapter will be a bit of a transition chapter, but I hope you will still enjoy. I'm sorry if it seems as if Christine and Erik are fighting a lot; but what I'm putting them through is not exactly pleasant. They'll work it out…

_Disclaimer: I own the Phantom of the Opera! If I lie, let lightning strike me down. (moving away from computer as rain clouds form over my head) _

And now, on with the story…

* * *

Christine hurried up the stairs of her house. She entered her master bedroom. Christine reached for the dress that lay neatly pressed on the bed, and proceeded to get changed as fast as she could. She had the dress half way up and buttoned when she realized that she couldn't reach the button in the middle of her dress. She sighed in frustration. Suddenly, she felt the cool touch of delicate fingers on her back. Christine glanced over her shoulder to find her husband.

"You're buttoned up all wrong. Be still a moment." Christine felt Erik rapidly unbutton her dress. When she was dressed properly, she turned and eyed him. He looked ruggedly handsome, dressed in a dark suit. She felt his eyes on her as well.

"You really should learn not to eavesdrop, my dear." Erik looked at her calmly. Christine just shook her head.

"I truly didn't mean too…but it was so loud, and you never fight with Madam Giry…" Christine grabbed his arm. "Erik, I don't want to cause you any more pain. If asking you to share your past with me is too much, then please, let's forget about it. But just so you know…"

Christine looked him straight in the eyes. "I will _never_ leave you…only if you ask it of me yourself."

Erik scowled. "Christine, I deserve your anger, not your acceptance! I can't do it, don't you understand? I can't tell you everything…it's too much for me! It would tear you apart…" Erik swept out of the room quickly, leaving Christine alone. The tears were threatening to fall. She sang, into the empty room, weakly:

**Stay by my side, guide me**

**Angel, my soul was weak, forgive me**

**Enter at last…**

Christine finally broke down. She sank to her knees, alone, and cried all the tears that had been building up. She covered her head with her hands, and sobbed. She felt so utterly alone…and then she felt warm, strong arms around her as a figure came into the room, and dropped down on the floor beside her. Christine couldn't even lift her head. She just leaned into the familiar presence. They just sat on the floor together, lost in each other. Christine finally broke away. She looked at the man beside her.

"What do we do now?"

Erik just shook his head. "I know this much: I never want you to cry because of me again. Nothing is worth that. Not my pride, not my past, and certainly not an argument. You're my angel, Christine. I love you…"

Christine leaned forward and kissed him with all the power she had. She conveyed to him, through one kiss, the love, anguish, despair, and joy that she had in her heart at that moment. Erik felt lost and found all at once. He understood, in one moment, how much this woman really meant to him, and how much he really meant to her.

Erik stood, and helped Christine from the floor.

"Let's just get through this dinner, Christine. After that, we will figure this out."

* * *

At precisely four o'clock, there was a knock at the door. Christine stood from the parlor chair she had been sitting in, and glanced at Erik nervously. He smiled encouragingly, and gestured to the door. She went forward, and opened it.

"Monsieur Javere! It is once again an honor…please, come in! May I take your coat?" Christine spoke in a bright, cheerful voice. M. Javere answered in an equal tone.

"Thank you, Madam. It is a pleasure to see you again. I trust you are well?" Javere reached down and kissed the top of her knuckles. She smiled.

"Of course, Monsieur…if you'll just follow me, I'll make the introductions."

Christine led him into the parlor. She was surprised to just see Madam Giry and Meg in the room. Her eyes asked a silent question to Madam Giry. _Where is Erik?_ Madam Giry inclined her head toward the music room. Ah, that's where he was. Christine recovered, and turned to M. Javere.

"I'm sure you already know Madam Giry and her daughter Meg. They have agreed to join us for dinner tonight. They are like family to my husband and I…I do hope you don't mind?"

"Of course not! How do you do, Madam, Mademoiselle? I trust your trip here was pleasant?"

"Actually, it was a bit of a nightmare." Madam Giry nodded to Christine, and started to entertain M. Javere with her experiences with the carriage driver. Christine turned and entered the music room. It was completely dark, but she knew that Erik was there. She could feel his presence.

"Erik?" Christine called into the room softly.

"I'm here…I'm just making sure that everything is in order, should I decided that I want Javere to see my new compositions."

"Then why is it dark?"

"I can see in the dark!" Erik sounded irritated. Christine sighed.

"All right. When you're ready, we are all gathered in the parlor." Christine turned to leave. Erik came beside her.

"We will do it together, right?" Erik asked, his hands going around Christine's waist.

"Of course, Angel."

They left the room together, Erik still clutching her tightly. Madam Giry was just finishing her story.

"And if it wasn't for Erik coming out and giving that garish man a lesson in manners, I would still be arguing with him!"

"It seems as if Monsieur Massenet is a clever man to have around…speaking of which, where is Monsieur Massenet? I am most anxious to meet him."

"I am here, Monsieur. I apologize for my tardiness." Erik, still holding Christine, stepped forward from the shadows. He let go of her, and approached M. Javere. He stretched out his hand as M. Javere rose from the chair he had been occupying. "I am Erik Massenet. I am honored to finally have a face to go with the numerous letters that you have sent."

Javere's eyes looked over Erik. He smiled, and accepted his hand. "The honor is mine to meet someone of your genius, Monsieur." Javere gestured at Christine. "Your beautiful wife is full of praises for your works; when I met her at the Opera House, she just intensified my curiosity about you even more!"

Erik visibly sighed. He nodded toward the exit of the parlor. "Perhaps it is time for dinner. Christine?" Christine nodded and smiled at her guests.

"This way, everyone! Meg, will you help me serve?" The group left the parlor and headed for the dining room.

* * *

To Christine's immense pleasure, Javere and Erik seemed to be hitting it off. They talked nonstop through dinner, pausing a few times to compliment hers and Meg's cooking. They were almost in a world by themselves; talking about music, operas, and the basic running of the Opera House. Once dessert had been served, Erik offered to show Javere his music room. The men excused themselves, and left the room. Christine smiled a nervous smile at Madam Giry and Meg.

"What do you think?"

Meg grinned. "It would be more like Erik to hide in the shadows, not talk up a storm! It seems like he really wants to be a patron…I think he's doing it for you, Christine."

Madam Giry nodded. "He is proving to you that he can change. I have a really good feeling about this."

Christine could feel the happiness rise through her body. She knew Erik could do this; she knew that others could see what she saw when she looked at Erik…

Erik came back into the dining room. "My dear, M. Javere wishes to hear a few numbers from the latest opera…will you sing for me?"

Christine smiled. "Of course, Angel. Only for you…"

* * *

Erik liked Javere. He didn't know why, but he just had a feeling…he had always been a good judge of character. He lived alone in the catacombs of an Opera House for most of his life, true, but he could always tell with people. Now, just because he liked Javere didn't mean that he trusted him. On the contrary, he still watched with a steady eye, waiting for any sign that Javere might not be all that he seemed. So far, he had stayed in the same context as their letters: talking of his trouble with the Opera Populaire, asking Erik's opinion on certain issues, and gushing about Erik's music. When Erik had brought him into his music room, Javere had gasped.

"Have you written all these compositions?"

"Most of them. Some are reproductions of operas that I have heard. I use to have a lot of free time on my hands, Monsieur. Sometimes I would sit and listen to an orchestra playing, and simply copy their notes onto paper. Music is my life, Monsieur. It is my passion."

"That is most apparent, Monsieur Massenet." Javere walked toward the piano. "May I?" Erik gave consent, and Javere seated himself at the piano. He eyed the piece on the music stand. It was simply entitled 'Paisible'. Javere leaned toward the keys, and attempted to play the complicated rhythms. Erik was impressed by his attempt. It seemed that finally the Opera Populaire had a manager that knew a little about music. Erik smiled.

"This is my latest work, Monsieur Javere. It is not quiet finished."

"Paisible? It does not sound appropriate, Monsieur. It sounds the furthest thing from 'peaceful'." Javere looked at Erik in confusion. "I don't mean to insult you, Monsieur…"

"You must hear the piece as I do. Please, allow me to fetch my wife. The words are as important to this piece as the music itself."

"Of course! I would be honored."

Erik left, and fetched Christine. Once out of the dining room, she looked at him with a broad smile on her face.

"Doesn't exactly have a torch and a pitchfork, does he?"

Erik grabbed her hand and pulled her from the kitchen. "Now is not the time for gloating, my dear. I will gladly take my punishment at a later date."

Christine resisted. "What kind of punishment?"

Erik pulled her again. "Anything you want."

"Really?"

Erik pulled Christine into his body. He breathed slightly into her ear, causing shivers to run up and down her spine. "Anything."

Erik pushed her forward into the music room. He gestured for Christine to sit on the piano bench left unoccupied by M. Javere.

"Sing for me," Erik said quietly to Christine. Together, they sang the words to Erik's new opera Paisible, while Erik played furiously on the piano. The beautiful melodic lyrics counteracted the seemingly harsh and fast music. When joined, Erik always had the sense of peace, which inspired the name of the song. He glanced at Christine, his fingers finding their own way over the keys. Erik had written this opera with her as the inspiration. She did not know that, but it was partly why this opera was his favorite. It was odd that Christine loved it as well…Erik glanced at M. Javere, who had his eyes closed. With a signal to Christine, he ended the song. Javere opened his eyes.

"Clearly, Sir, you are a genius. I could most definitely feel the peace in your music…and your voices! I know that you have sung before at the Opera Populaire, Madam, but Monsieur Massenet! Your voice is incomparable! If you sang, people all over Paris would be awakened to what true music is. You simply must sing…"

Erik merely shook his head. "I appreciate your kind words, Monsieur, but I am merely a teacher. I use my voice to aid in my compositions. I have no desire to perform on stage." Even as he said those words, his heart hissed out _liar_. Erik remembered the powerful sensation of coming onto the stage as Don Juan in his ill-fated opera. He had loved the feeling of the crowd watching him, gasping as he sang with such passion as had never been heard before…with the exception of his wife.

Erik swallowed visibly. "I would, however, like to accept your offer to be patron to the arts, if the offer still stands."

"Of course it still stands! I would be a fool not to…will you allow your works to be played at the Opera Populaire?" Javere looked at Erik with a hopeful look. Erik nodded.

"Yes, Monsieur, I would be honored."

At this, Christine jumped from her seat and gave Erik a huge hug and kiss. She was smiling and laughing; Erik had never seen her so happy. He set her down, and she turned to M. Javere.

"If you will excuse me, I will leave you two to work out the details of your business arrangement." Christine left the room in a hurry. The two men stared at her exit in a bit of a shock.

"You're a lucky man, Monsieur Massenet."

"I know…more than I can say." Erik shook himself to stop himself from rushing after Christine…"Monsieur, would you like to discuss this in my office upstairs?"

* * *

"All right, Monsieur Massenet. We are all set. All the paperwork has been signed. Would you like to discuss your official duties?" Javere sat in a chair across from Erik.

"I think I have the gist. I fund some of your activities, and in return I get a percentage of the profits. I allow you to perform my works, and I have a say in how it is put on: what singers, orchestra, set design, etc." Erik leaned across the desk and offered Javere a drink. He accepted it.

"You will also need to attend the shows." Erik sputtered into his glass.

"What do you mean? I have to be present for all of them?" Erik looked incredulous. "I'm afraid I can't do that. I would be honored to support your Opera House, but I can't attend the operas."

"And why not, Monsieur? You would like to hear your own works, no?"

Erik gritted his teeth. "I am a private person. I do not like crowds."

"Ah, well, you must learn to make an exception, Monsieur." Javere was pushing Erik, and he did not like it one bit. Erik tried to control his temper.

"Please, Monsieur, let us drop the subject for now."

"Please, if we are now partners of such, I would prefer it if you called me Stefan."

Erik was a little taken aback by his request. He responded automatically. "Then call me Erik, Monsieur."

They idly talked a few minutes more, when Stefan begged his leave. Just as he was heading out the door, Erik stopped him.

"Stefan, before you go, may I ask you a personal question?"

"Of course, Erik. What is it?"

"You have not once asked me about the mask that I wear…why?"

Stefan looked at Erik in a very serious manner. "Sir, it is none of my business; it is yours alone. I do find it a bit odd, but we all have our eccentrics. You have been the proper gentleman during my entire visit; your wife is pleasant and clearly adores you; and your music speaks much about you personally. I have all I need to know." Stefan left the room, leaving Erik feeling quite shocked. He had judged him not on appearance, but on what kind of person he was. This is was definitely new to Erik. He looked up as Christine appeared in the doorway.

"Did you get everything set, love?"

"Yes. But Javere wants me to attend all the galas. I don't know what I'm going to do about that…" Erik motioned for Christine to come to him. He scooped her up and set her on his lap.

"We will have to go then. It will be grand. Just think of it…hearing your operas performed in front of hundreds of people, feeling the outburst of applause at the end of the gala." Christine leaned back against her husband. "And of course, I would be there, singing. For you, and you alone. I know that you can't resist _that_. Everything will work out, Angel. Just like we hoped."

They sat together a moment, enjoying the closeness of being together. Christine yawned.

"What a day this has been! I'm ready to go to bed. Are you?"

"Yes, something like that." Erik smiled at her mischievously. Together they left the office and headed for their bedroom.

Later that night, Christine was awakened by the all too familiar screaming.


	4. Drinks and Confessions

**Demons of the Past **

**Ch.4 Drinks and Confessions**

**Author's Note**: This chapter is the one that really gave me the idea for the whole story…and like many things, it grew legs and ran from this point. I hope you enjoy…there's more to come. This chapter also will feature a first for me: first person pov. I will talk about Erik's past a lot in this chapter, and it will all be from his perspective utterly. I will also throw in a little about Christine, as well. It also has drinking in this chapter...rather a lot. Hope it doesn't offend and I hope you enjoy!

_Disclaimer: Believe it or not, I really don't claim to own the Phantom of the Opera. Only a crazy person would do that…_

Previously:

"**What a day this has been! I'm ready to go to bed. Are you?"**

"**Yes, something like that." Erik smiled at her mischievously. Together they left the office and headed for their bedroom.**

**Later that night, Christine was awakened by the all too familiar screaming.**

And now, on with the story…

* * *

Christine woke with a start as Erik began his agonizing ritual of twisting and turning on the bed. This time, unfortunately, Christine was unable to get out of the way; she wasn't fast enough. Erik's arm connected with her shoulder, and she was flung out of the bed and onto the hard floor. Christine groaned as she felt the bruises start to form. She glanced up at the bed, and was shocked to see Erik sitting straight up in bed, looking at her in horror. 

Erik blinked in surprise. Then, quite suddenly, Erik was on the floor next to Christine, knocking over a nightstand in his rush. He reached for her, and held her against him.

"Oh, Christine! What did I do? Are you ok? I'm so sorry…" Erik pulled her away and looked her over. The only thing that was painfully visible to Erik was the large red whelp forming on her shoulder. It would be a Hell of a bruise…Christine merely looked at Erik.

"It's all right, Erik, you didn't know what you were doing…you were dreaming." Christine touched his hand, which was trembling. "What were you dreaming about?"

Erik was shaking all over. He felt sick. The room was spinning as fast as his heart was beating. He had never felt this bad in his whole life; and that included all the beatings received as a child, and being shot in the chest. Erik opened his mouth, presumably to tell Christine about his dream, when there was a sharp rapping on the door.

"Christine! Erik! Is everything all right in there? I heard screaming and a crash…"

Erik rose shakily to his feet, and stumbled for the door. He snatched it open to reveal Madam Giry.

"You would do well to remember that it is nighttime, and this is our bedroom, and we are married…I believe you can draw your own conclusions, Marie?" Erik snapped at Madam Giry. He pushed her slightly to the side and unsteadily walked to his office. Madam Giry blushed deeply, and glanced apologetically at Christine, who was still sprawled on the floor. Christine rolled her eyes, but made no attempt to correct Erik. Madam Giry murmured her apologizes, and walked as fast as she could back to her bedroom. Christine almost could have laughed at the awkwardness of the situation, but was too disturbed by Erik's behavior. He had never awakened during one of his episodes before…and now he seemed not quite right.

Christine started to get up from the floor when Erik made an abrupt reappearance. He had two glasses in one hand, and a full bottle of brandy in the other. He grabbed a lighted candle from the hallway, some how juggling all the things in his hands with ease. He walked over to the bed, but instead of sitting on the bed, he sat unexpectedly on the floor, his back leaning against the bed. Christine scooted across the floor to sit beside him in a similar position. They were both a sight. Christine was wearing a thin white nightgown, and the sleep was still apparent in her disheveled appearance. Erik was wearing a pair of long pants with no shirt; his scars were in clear view. His hair was ruffled and mused, and his face had taken on an odd pasty look. His unsteady hand attempted to open the brandy; Christine took it from him with no protest. She poured the glasses full, and Erik immediately downed his in one gulp. He glanced at Christine. She eyed him, wondering if Erik had challenged her. She smiled smugly, and knocked back her drink in one gulp as well. Erik's eyes widened in shock, and she laughed.

"Meg and I use to have contests with the other girls in the ballet corps…don't tell Madam Giry…," Christine whispered to Erik. Her eyes had a mischievous gleam that Erik found enticing. How many other little things like this did Erik not know about?

Erik filled his glass again, and held it up to Christine.

"After this drink, I will be ready to tell you. About the dream. Or about my past, whatever you like, it's all the same. I relive everything: every beating, every jeering crowd; every tear you have cried because of me; I survive Hell once, but I am cursed to live it over and over again, unable to change anything…"

Erik drank his glass unceremoniously. He leaned forward a little, trying to find a comfortable spot of the floor. Christine sat hugging her knees, her eyes never leaving her husband's. Erik's face was still deathly pale, and the candle light showed the shadows of the crevices on the right side of his face. Erik exhaled a long held breath. He started.

"Lucky for you, my dear, I dreamed of the beginning of it all. I dreamed of my mother…"

* * *

I don't know my own birthday. I don't really know how old I am…I have always guessed my age. I don't have a Christian name, because my mother never named me…I don't know where I was born, or where I lived for my first years of life. All I have are memories of my mother…and those are memories I would gladly exhume from my mind permanently. My earliest memory is of touching my face and feeling the rough, uncut cloth that covered it entirely. My mother could not bear to look at me; she could not bear to speak to me; and she certainly could not bear to have me in her presence. I tried so hard to be happy; I had some toys that were not toys at all: I would play with the stones in the grass, I would find shiny gems along a lake, I had a bundle of rags that I use to go to sleep with. But the dream is always the same…it is of the day that I realized I was a monster, and my mother, the only person that I had known, that I had loved, sold me into a life forged in the pits of Hell. 

When my mother bothered to speak to me at all, she called me 'sin of the flesh'. At the time, I had no idea why she would call me such. Somehow, I knew that 'sin' was something appalling and evil. It wasn't until later that I pieced together a little about why she hated me so…She had been married to a man that was not my father. She blamed me for her husband's departure, and she thought that God's punishment of her adultery was my own abhorrent face…Twisted as this is, she believed it with all her heart! Oh, why hadn't she just drowned me in the lake at my birth? Why did she let such a loathsome creature live? I truly don't know. How I have wished for death, even as I child!

I was only allowed to take off my mask when I was completely alone. I can't tell you the number of times that I would sit in my room, unmasked, and see something that would scare me to the core. I would see a monster…and it always seemed to be in the same places…I would try to tell my mother, try to tell her that there was a monster in my room. She would slap at me, and tell me to get out of the house. On the day my life changed forever, I went outside and to the lake near my house. On an impulse, I took my crudely made mask off my face, and stared into the water. It was then…it was then that I realized that the monster that I had been seeing…the thing that had terrified me since before I could remember…was my own face! I realized in that moment why my mother hated my so…who could love someone with this…face…

I ran back to the house, trying to get reassurance from the one person who I knew…and when she saw me…unmasked…she screamed! She screamed, so loud that the sound still vibrates in my ears to this day. I…ran back into my room, and tried to find my monkey…it was the one thing that I had, that I truly owned. She came at me…rushed at me…she beat me, the worst that I had ever gotten. I was beaten physically and mentally…nothing she could do with her hands could equal what she had done with her scream…I don't remember what happened next.

I awoke some time later, and I was in the back of a wagon. I was so confused…I didn't understand. I poked my head out of the flap of canvas that hung over the back of the wagon, and was immediately sorry. I saw stars. I pressed my ear to the canvas on the side, and heard a man's voice say: "Pleasure doing business with you, Anita. If you have anymore monsters, please let us know." And he laughed, this horrible, mirthless laugh. It was then that I realized what was happening. I peered carefully out of the gap in the back of the wagon, and saw my mother standing in the front door…counting the money that she had received…and I screamed for her…I screamed and screamed and screamed, and she didn't even look up…

* * *

Erik was visibly shaking. He had not looked at Christine since he started speaking. He had spoken to the floor, he had spoken to the window, he had spoken to anything in the room other than Christine. He continued. 

"For the longest time, I thought it was a mistake. I thought that one day my mother would come for me, and say 'It was all in jest, my son. I will take you home.' No matter how much I knew she hated me, no matter how loud her screams were in my head, I still loved her…I loved her so much! I…I…"

Erik broke down. He buried his head in his hands, and let the sobs come. Christine embraced him, and stroked his sweaty hair. "Erik, let it out. Let it out! I am here now. You are home now! You are safe, and you are with me…"

Erik finally stopped; the sobs ceased. Christine reached and placed his head against her breast. He calmed noticeably as he felt Christine's heartbeat. He pulled her close to him, feeling the warmth of her body try to warm the cold darkness threatening to take him; but he could feel the cold overcoming the warmth.

"Christine…when you took off my mask for the first time…I was so afraid that you would scream as my mother had…but you didn't. I don't have to hear your screams mingled with my mother's…but I see your eyes. I see your eyes full of hate and fear…loathing. I see them every night as I close my own. I…"

Erik's body started to shake, and Christine held him tightly. "I can't believe that you're here, Christine. I can't believe, that after everything, you came back to me. You gave me a second chance…"

Christine leaned her head down, and kissed Erik on his forehead. "Angel, you gave _me_ the second chance. I don't know what I would do without you in my life. After all that has happened to you, you had no reason to trust me, or anybody for that matter. Thank you…for telling me about your mother."

Erik composed himself, and poured himself another drink. He nursed it longer than he had his pervious shots. He shrugged away from Christine's embrace to lean his back against the bed. He felt exhausted…he had never told anyone details about his past before. His body was without feeling; everything felt cold and icy. Erik just sat a moment, reveling in the silence of the room. A random thought entered his head.

"Christine, when did your mother die?"

Christine shifted her position a bit, and she too leaned against the bed frame. "She died in childbirth…I never knew her. Everyone who knew my mother always spoke so highly of her; I wish I had known her. My father loved her deeply, of course. He had a large portrait of her in his music room, and he always said that he played for her…he told me that she had a beautiful voice, and that I took after her, in looks and personality. Knowing that I looked like my mother, that I sounded like my mother, was always a great comfort to me. I know that it must have caused my father pain, but he never showed it, not once." She paused, and smiled in the flickering darkness. "I used to sleep in my mother's old traveling cloak…when I was younger, it would wrap around me like a blanket, and I pretended that I could smell her perfume."

Christine glanced at Erik, who urged her to continue.

"I remember, when my father first got sick, my mother's brother came to pay his respects. I was but seven, and I was still naïve enough to think that my father would get better. I had never seen my Uncle; he had never sent so much as a letter to me. Somehow, he and my father kept in touch, and he came. Madam Giry told me later that my father was thinking of sending me to live with my Uncle; he would be my only living relative after my father passed on." Christine bit her lip. Erik looked at her intently.

"What happened, Christine? Why did you not go with your Uncle?"

"I was alone in my bedroom when I laid eyes on my Uncle for the first time. He took one long look at me. He came forward, and touched my hair. He said that I looked just like my mother; that I was the spitting image of her. I didn't like him touching me; something was wrong. He suddenly struck me across the face. I went flying away from him. My Uncle was hissing at me, telling me that I had killed his sister, that I was the reason she was dead. He told me that I…didn't deserve to live. I was crying, and praying he wouldn't hit me again…and he just left. He left our home, and I, or my father, never heard from him again."

Christine sighed deeply. "I have never told anyone that, Erik. I have lived with that on my soul since the day it happened. I have always felt like a murderer; that I had killed my mother just so I could live. When my father died, and I was alone for the first time…I craved the death that you so diligently sought…"

Erik grabbed her shoulders, forcing Christine to look into his eyes. "You know that you are not responsible, right? You cannot accept the blame for the death of your mother…it was beyond your control!"

Christine smiled ruefully. "Similarly to how you had no control over being born with a deformity? I think that I understand you better than you think, Erik"

Erik looked at Christine sadly, and in understanding. "We all have demons of the past, don't we? I was foolish to think that I was the only one with a horrible past…"

"We shouldn't try and compare which of our pasts is worse, my dear. It would be too depressing…and after all, after I came to the Opera House, I found you, my Angel…do you feel better, talking about your past? I truly feel as though a weight has lifted from me…"

"I don't know, Christine…I feel numb. But I will keep going; I will tell you all."

Erik straightened, and reached for the brandy again. This time, Christine beat him to it. She took a drink straight from the bottle, and offered it to him. Erik just looked at her. She was so beautiful…and his match in everyway.

Erik shook his head, clearing his mind. He had rarely opened this part of his memory before, but now he felt ready…

"Now…the gypsies…" Erik started, with clear and utterly loathing in his voice.

* * *

For the record, Christine only had two drinks-the shot and the drink from the bottle. She does not get drunk in any way. Erik, on the other hand... 


	5. Living in Hell

**Demons of the Past**

**Ch. 5 Living in Hell**

**Author's note**: Chapter starts in Erik's POV

_Disclaimer: I have lawyertitis…an acute fear of being sued by a lawyer…therefore I do not own the Phantom of the Opera!_

**P.S.:** The songs in here are rhythmically the same as 'Angel of Music' and 'Music of the Night', but the lyrics have been changed some what, courtesy of my genius brother Alan.

**P.S. 2:** Thanks to Son Kat and Lin for being the loyal reviewers that you are. I always smile when I see your reviews. Hope I don't disappoint!

And now, on with the story…

* * *

My first year with the gypsies was Hell. Pure, absolute Hell. You see, I wasn't broken in when they first brought me to their camp, to their world. I still struggled, still yelled, still tried to fight them, all in the vain belief that one day my mother would save me…but they beat all that out of you eventually. They drain all thoughts from your head. You just become a shell. And Faza was never a man to be crossed…and that was my new master. He was the brother of the leader of the gypsies, and the only one brave enough to handle me. The gypsy women believed me cursed; they believed that I would bring misfortune to their camp. Faza would laugh, and say that my existence was for one thing: making money. And I have to admit, the money alone that I brought in my first year with Faza was enough to allow him to live the rest of his life in comfort. But he, like the other gypsies, was never satisfied, so I was constantly 'performing' as they called it. I was in…a cage. I stayed in this cage unless we were moving to another village or town; I was chained and tied down in a wagon, surrounded by men who would not hesitate to beat me within an inch of my life if I so much as looked at them whenever we managed to travel. The gypsies were very superstitious; they truly believed I was the Devil's Child. I had no contact with anyone except Faza; and he only touched me to remove the crude mask that I wore. I hated them; more than I hated my mother. My life was lived not in years, but in how many times I was made to show crowds of people my face…I was truly a devil's child for the first few years I was there…

As time went by, Faza gave me a few freedoms; at night, as long as I stayed in the gypsy camp, I could walk around and beg food off of people. The other gypsies hated this idea; after all, what would happen if I tried to escape? Faza had that figured out too. _Who would be foolish to take him in if he has no mask? _That was Faza solution to everything: take away the monster's mask. And so my mask became an invisible chain that tied me to the camp…they would not let me wear it while I wandered free. I was, by that time, somewhat of the way that I am now…I found that if I listened to the gypsies read out loud from a paper, then I could figure out the meanings of the symbols on the pages; I taught myself to read. The more difficult task was teaching myself to write; I could not be found with any kind of ink or writing paper. But I managed. I knew that if I armed myself with knowledge that Faza didn't know I had, then maybe I could get the upper hand somehow. And I knew that Faza was starting to fear me. By that time I had grown much taller; I was almost as tall asmy captor. But Faza still thought that if I didn't have my mask that I wouldn't be able to leave my hellish haven within the camp. And he was right. I didn't dare try to escape; what person in their right mind would take in a boy in my condition? My face…was a problem in itself, but I was always filthy, and dressed in crude, unfitting clothing. I knew that for me to escape this place I would have to wait until the time was perfect. I waited, biding my time as I tried to become more knowledgeable in things that I thought might be important later in my life. At some point I discovered my voice; this was a joy and gift that helped me withstand the years…but I also knew that if my talents were discovered, then the gypsies would make me perform…not just as a monster, but as some sort of heavenly demon. I could just picture it: Faza making me sing, putting the audience at ease with my voice, and then ripping off my mask, revealing that the voice of Angels was coming from a demon child…I shudder to think of it, although it could not have been worse than what I was doing in the first place. But my voice was my only comfort; it was mine and mine alone, and I felt that as long as I kept it secret then it wouldn't become part of my horrible performance.

I hated the gypsies…everything about them was horrible. All of them had 'talents'; some billed themselves as women who had facial hair like a man, others had flexible skin that they could stretch and contort, still others were fortune tellers and sword eaters. But every crowd that came through the fair went through a large tent…which was my tent. My cage, my prison, was center stage. I often would hunch in a corner, trying to make the sounds of the crowd disappear. Somehow, my monkey, my one friend from my life before, had ended up in my possession. I treasured him, and kept him close at all times. But even my monkey couldn't help me as the crowds grew nearer to my prison…Faza would come in, making several clever comments of how I was born. He would come at me, and beat me with a long cane, even when I wasn't resisting him. And then…the moment that I dreaded the most would come…Faza would scream 'Behold the Devil's Child!' and he would rip my mask from my face…He would force me to look into the crowd, and see the screams of horror, the laughter of children, _children_, the look of fear. They would throw rotten food at me, rocks, most anything that would fit through the bars of my cage. Faza would drop my mask as he quickly gathered the money thrown down when the crowd filed out. I would run for the mask, putting it on as fast as I could. I just…can't tell you how humiliating it was…how degrading it feels to be treated as an animal…I thought that all the world was the same jeering crowd that came to see me every night, not knowing that there were good people…

Like James. James…I have not had his name on my tongue since…_it_ happened. James was a son of an elderly gypsy woman; none know how she was able to conceive, but James was always a bit different than the other gypsies. For one, he actually wanted to befriend me, and I have to say that he was thenearest thing to a friend that I had. He would come and visit me when I was in my cage, bring me fresh food or wine when he could get it. When they would let my walk free, James and I would talk of plots to escape the gypsies; for he liked being there no more than I did. I never truly understood why he and I connected the way we did, but we shared a common goal: to leave the hell hole we found ourselves in. One day, Faza would not let me go free, and he told me the reason: for the first time since I had joined the camp, we would be going to Paris. We had mainly kept to the northern part of France, near Lille, and Paris was as far south as we had ever gone. I had, of course, heard of Paris through the newspapers that I had managed to procure and read. I immediately knew that this was the moment that I had waited for…Paris was a huge city; an old city with plenty of places to become lost and never found. When James came later that day, I told him the news. He and I formulated a plan; a plan for us both to leave and never return. The day that we arrived in Paris, James broke the lock on my cage. We both fled from the camp…as fast as our young legs could carry us. We had almost made it…when we were caught.

The man who caught up with us grabbed me by the ankles. And James, foolish James, could have run for freedom. It was there for him; there was but one gypsy, and he had me, and therefore was occupied. But James turned back and tried to help me. He tried to free me, instead of forgetting me and freeing himself. I remember the feeling of pity and gratitude that I had for James as the gypsy shoved him hard into the ground, knocking him unconscious. To this day, I still can't say that if faced with the same situation and the positions reversed that I would have stayed and helped my only friend. In my heart, I know that I would have left him, left him to the gypsies and I would have tried to find my way to freedom alone. It sickens me, to know this to be true, but I cannot change it. It lives on my soul, as does James' death.

The gypsy took us both back to camp. He took us to Faza, who ordered me chained and whipped. Faza took the cane himself, and started to beat James over and over again. He wouldn't stop. James at first tried to defend himself, tried to protect himself. I just sat there, watching. I couldn't yell, or scream, or help my friend in anyway. Faza beat him to death in front of my eyes, telling me that it was my fault that James had to die…and I knew that it was. If James hadn't stopped for me, if James hadn't gone along with my plan of escape, if James hadn't befriended me in the first place, he would still be alive. I knew that I could never escape the nightmare that I found myself in. From that point on, I had no will. I simply sat in my corner in my cage, and begged for death. I had no desire to escape anymore…all I had was the burning hatred and anger towards the gypsies, and in particular Faza. But I now deserved the Hell I lived in completely. It wasn't until we returned to Paris sometime later did an opportunity arise that I could not ignore, even in my despair and darkness…

I don't know what told me that this crowd was different, that this performance was different, but I trusted it. At first, it seemed as if I was wrong about the crowd. The mob looked the same, had the same jeering voices and faces. But when Faza unmasked me, and I stared at the crowd for the first time, I noticed a girl. She was clutching the bars between her hands, and she was not laughing. No, she was not. She wasn't looking at me in horror either…she looked…sad. So very sad. When Faza let go of me, I grabbed me mask and pretended to curl into my normal ball in the corner. But I saw a piece of rope tied to the outside of my cage. With light fingers I quickly untied the rope. Faza's back was to me, still counting the money he was collecting. I twisted the rope in my hands. It was so rough, so awkward in my hands. But it was simple. So very simple. I threw the length of rope around Faza's fat neck, and I pulled. I pulled until I could feel the anger in me swell. I saw in my mind Faza's hand raised to beat me; raised to take away my mask and expose me to a mob. I pulled as hard as I could on the rope, with every ounce of rage and pain I had in my body. I saw James being beaten by this man; saw the young boy scream and rage as Faza kicked him over and over. I pulled even after I heard the sickening crunch as Faza's neck broke. I saw James' face, covered in his own blood. I saw Faza's face, purple and bulging. Both deaths were on my soul. I dropped Faza. I dropped the rope. I rose, shaking, to my feet, only to discover that a girl was staring at me. It was the sad girl. She looked at me a moment.

"Where are his keys?" I reached over and took the large ring of keys from around his waist. I wasn't sure what to expect from this girl…but her reaction was so much different from that of the other people in the crowd. And, even at that point, I was an excellent judge of character. I felt that this young girl could help me; and I knew that I needed help more so than ever in my life.

"Hand me the keys. I'll unlock the door." The girl spoke with authority, almost as if she knew exactly what to do. I obediently handed over the keys. She turned them in the lock, and it snapped open. She grabbed my hand. I was shocked at first, to say the least. No one had touched me like that in my whole life. We started to leave when I remembered my monkey. I tugged out of the girl's hold and ran to retrieve it. The girl came swiftly to me, and grabbed my hand again.

"There's no time!" At that moment, another gypsy entered the tent. He saw Faza, dead, and then he saw me and the girl. He started yelling "Murderer!" Suddenly, shadows and footsteps were followingas the girl led us to a small grate on the side of a building.

"Go! Go quickly! I will meet you inside!"

I dove in, not thinking. I was acting on blind trust. If this was a trap, if this was some kind of cruel set up…I didn't think about that at the moment; I didn't really care. All I knew was that I had to escape from those people…The girl met me in the small chapel that I found myself in. She led my down a path…deep into the Opera House…my new home.

I had avenged my friend by killing my captor…I felt a strange sense of euphoria. I had killed; I had ended a life; I had taken revenge…and it was the most wonderful sensation to every spread across my body. I knew, at that moment, that I would never allow myself to be humiliated like that again. I would never again be the slave to someone else's whim. I would never reveal my face before a crowd again…and that is when I became something not quite human. I became a ghost of the man I should have grown up to be. I gave up the human emotions of fear and pain, and I replaced them with my hatred of the world, my indifference to the people around me.

That girl…she grew to be my only friend. She was older than me a great many years, I have guessed, and she cared for me as she would a younger brother. I owe her my life, my existence. Marie and I grew to respect one another, but we were never truly close. We teased and played, true, but when it came down to it, I realized that I could be putting her in danger just by associating with her. Like I did James…Marie gave me my name, she gave me my mask; I owe her everything. And my payment to her was to become a monster, the monster that I knew lived inside me all along. And then…you came. You came, and suddenly my meaningless existence had a purpose. Instead of the monster that I was, the loathsome gargoyle that I knew I saw when I looked in the mirror, I became the Angel of Music; a creature that was pure joy, love, beauty, and music. I had waited my whole life to find the love that you gave me as just a child. And now, the love you give me is enough to give me enough strength to relive my past…as long as I know that you're beside me, to hold me…

* * *

Erik finished his tale, completely drained of what little strength the alcohol had given him. He was locked in Christine's arms, and he reached up and traced the tears that were slowly going down her face.

"That's all I can tell you, truly. Most of my past is a blur…but what remains are powerful, anguished memories. My soul is weak, and I fear that it will never heal. But, perhaps, after tonight, things will be better."

Erik looked straight at Christine, his blue green eyes piercing into her brown ones. "Are you frightened of me now? Is my life too repulsive? Do you fear me?" Before Christine could open her mouth, Erik continued. "Of course you do! How could you not! I see it in your eyes. The nightmares I see are repulsive and frightening to _me_, so how can they not be to you? Please, don't lie. Don't tell me what you think I want to hear." Erik pulled away, and stood shakily. By now, Erik was clearly intoxicated. He walked to the door.

**Passionate creature of darkness,  
****What kind of life have you known?  
****Of all things that I'm sure of,  
****You are not alone!  
****Angel of Music!  
****My protector,  
****Let my love  
****Surround you!  
****Angel of Music!  
****Don't deny me  
****Come to me, my Angel!**

Erik turned, with tears in his eyes. He had never heard Christine sing as she did; she sang with passion and truth. Erik kneeled before her, the emotion apparent in his face. He choked out a reply.

**I am your Angel of Music; Stay with me Angel of Music…  
****I'll open up my mind, let the fantasy unwind  
****In the light of the love I cannot fight…  
****The light of my Angel of the Night.  
****Your light filled my spirit with a strange sweet sound  
****In my night there was music in my mind  
****And through music my heart began to soar!  
****And I loved, as I'd never loved before…  
****And in your eyes  
****I find no horror for me now  
****Those crystal eyes  
****That hold nothing but your core**

He looked as if he wanted to get up from the floor, but Christine stopped him. She kissed him, first on the top of his head, then down his scarred cheek. Erik stirred under her touch. He brought his hands to touch her silky hair, and Christine finally kissed him full on the lips. He brought her down to the floor, deepening the kiss at the same time. Her touch was so pure, and it made his skin turn to flame when she touched him. The brandy had given his mind a buzz, and Christine was igniting in him a passion that he knew must be quenched.

"Do I deserve this?" Erik murmured against Christine's lips.

"Erik…you need to sleep. You're drunk…" Christine wrinkled her nose. She could taste the brandy on his tongue: a bitter, unwelcomed taste in her mouth.

Christine rose from the floor, and grabbed Erik by the hand playfully. She led him to the balcony overlooking the small garden in their room.

"Dawn. It's morning…" Christine whispered to Erik.

"Not to me. It's still nighttime…because in the morning, I'm going to have a horrendous headache…" Erik turned away from the light. "I do not believe that I have felt this tired in years, my dear. We simply must stay up all night talking again sometime." Erik's sarcastic nature was coming back strong, and Christine smiled.

"You definitely deserve a full day's sleep, after all that you had to relive tonight. I think I'm going to go and find Madam Giry, and clear up the misunderstanding between you and her. She was just concerned, and you mortified her…she was so embarrassed; I fear she will never want to visit us again!."

Erik chuckled. "I just said the first thing to enter my mind. You can't blame me for my cunning intellect." He leaned down to kiss her, but Christine pulled away.

"You are most definitely drunk, Monsieur Massenet! Go to bed!"

Erik glared at her. "Since when do you tell me what to do, Madam? I am a grown man! I know when I'm inebriated or not." Erik turned to walk toward the bed, and stumbled, falling against the wall. He glanced at Christine sheepishly.

"All right, just a little bit. I'm going to bed!" And so, as if the idea had been his the whole time, Erik fell forward into the bed. Christine came towards Erik, and pulled the sheets over his body. Erik's eyes were already drooping, and Christine kissed his forehead.

"Sleep well, my Angel…"

Christine was at the door when she heard Erik sing softly to her:

"Christine, I love you."

* * *

I just wanted to add quickly that I apologize if you guys find typos in this fic. I'm trying to work out getting a beta. I have had a couple of comments about misuse of words and misspelled words, and I just wanted to say sorry! I'm working on trying to fix them. If you see any huge mistakes, and you would like to point them out, then please review and let me know. I'll change it as soon as I can! Thanks! 


	6. What New Surprises Lie in Store?

**Demons of the Past**

**Ch. 6 What new surprises lie in store?**

**Author's note:** For the first time, I have actually planned out my chapters. Normally they just pop out and I write it down, but this time I actually have things planned rather nicely. You may hate me at the end of the chapter, but please, don't throw anything until the next chapter. Thank you for reading and reviewing!

_Disclaimer: The nice police officer standing at my shoulder would like me to remind you that I do not in fact own the Phantom of the Opera, regardless of previous statements…_

**P.S.:** Juliana Olstad: thanks for answering my questions! I hope to hear from you again.

And now, on with the story…

* * *

Erik awoke the following night. He absentmindedly touched Christine's side of the bed, but found it empty. He started to get out of bed, but was hammered suddenly by the presence of a massive headache. He cradled his aching head in his hands, desperately trying to relieve the pressure in his mind. The door opened a crack, revealing a dim light that was too much for Erik to take. He closed his eyes sharply, and rolled back into bed, his hands bringing the covers up to rest below his chin. Erik heard the door shut, and someone with soft footsteps approached the bed.

"Not now, Christine…I feel as though bass drums are practicing in my head…" Erik managed to murmur from underneath a pillow. Even the softness of his own voice was too much for him to bear. He groaned and covered his ears with the pillow.

"Christine is asleep in the parlor room, Erik. I have taken the liberty of bringing you your own concoction to soothe a hangover. But first, I would love to hear an apology for your behavior last night…" Madam Giry's voice was firm, but held a touch of humor. Erik groaned again.

"Please, Marie…just give me the tonic…I'll go on bended knee to beg your forgiveness…anything."

"No no, my dear, you must beg forgiveness now!"

Erik lost his temper. "Fine! Damn it, Marie, I'm sorry! I'm sorry that I embarrassed you! I'm sorry I shoved you out of the way! Now, give me the damn tonic!" Erik fell silent for a moment, as his body slowly registered that he had just yelled at the top of his lungs. His head exploded, and he fell back into the bed, feeling as if the pain would consume him. "Uhhh, my head…"

Madam Giry laughed, a sound that grated Erik's ears. "That was punishment enough, I think. Here, son, take this."

Erik took the small bottle gratefully, and downed the liquid in one gulp. He immediately choked a bit, coughing harshly. "I always forget how bitter this is…I'm always in a rush to take it…"

The effect of the medicine was instantaneous. Erik felt the pressure slowly dissipate, and he found that he could look into Marie's face without seeing double.

"Thank you, Marie. Now, where did you say Christine was?"

"She's asleep in the parlor room. She has been up most of the day; I don't rightly blame her. You were snoring so loud it seemed as if you were trying to wake the dead!" Madam Giry laughed again. Erik scowled.

"I do not snore, Marie."

Madam Giry just laughed again, and Erik got out of bed. He was still shirtless, and a quick glance to Marie revealed that she too had noticed. She blushed, a deep shade of magenta.

"I'll give you some peace so you can change your clothes and such." Madam Giry headed for the door.

"Well, thank you _ever_ so much for the courtesy of privacy, Marie." Erik's sarcastic tone bit at Madam Giry, but she merely smiled.

"Glad you're feeling better, Erik."

* * *

Erik found his way down the stairs ten minutes later. He headed first for the parlor room, ignoring the biting hunger that was reminding him that he had had nothing to eat for a day. He stopped in the doorway, and saw Christine sprawled on the couch, still fully clothed, and sound asleep. Erik picked her up gentle and carried her upstairs. Christine stirred a little in his embrace. Erik made it to the room, and set Christine carefully on the bed. He started to undo her corset when her hand came up suddenly and slapped his hand away. Erik looked at her in surprise.

"Sorry, Erik…I thought I was dreaming, floating through the clouds…then I felt someone trying to take off my clothes…" Christine's eyes were still heavy with sleep. Erik quickly undid the rest of her cumbersome clothing, and fetched a nightgown from the dresser. Erik tucked her in tightly, noticing that Christine had already drifted back to sleep. Erik walked out of the room swiftly, and closed the door behind him.

Erik went straight to the kitchen, trying to find something to fill the ravenous feeling that was consuming him. He found the leftovers from their previous dinner, and he started to arrange that into a meal when he heard footfalls directly behind him. Erik turned sharply, and pinned whoever it was against a kitchen cabinet. He released his hold almost as quickly when he saw the fear in young Meg's eyes. Erik walked back over to his plate, as though the incident hadn't happened.

"What can I do for you, Meg?" Erik addressed her formally. He took his plate from the kitchen and motioned her to follow him to his music room. He sat at his desk and moved all the papers to one side, putting his plate in the middle. He indicated which seat Meg should take, and she complied.

"I hope you don't mind my eating while we talk…" Erik said, indicating his own plate of food.

"Oh no, I know that you must be hungry…and I will keep this brief, for I know you don't like to be disturbed." Meg answered, timidly at first, but stronger as she progressed through her thoughts. She still felt uncomfortable and uneasy around this man, even though she knew she had nothing to fear. Erik shrugged.

"You are not a disturbance, my dear. Your mother in a tantrum: that's a disturbance." Erik earned a small laugh from Meg. She glanced up at him, sobering.

"I need to speak to you about Christine. I don't think she is feeling quite well." At this remark, Erik rose from his seat, forgetting his hunger and the food on the desk.

"What do you mean? Is she sick? How do you know? Is she all right?" Erik asked these questions in rapid succession, but Meg merely held up her hand.

"I do not know so much as that, Monsieur. I just know my best friend, and I find that she is acting odd. She doesn't seem to be acting like herself. Haven't you noticed, Erik?"

Erik raked his hands through his black hair, a habit picked up when he was nervous or agitated. "No, I mean, she's been acting perfectly normal to me…do you think she is hiding something from me? Something terrible?" Erik said this in such a melodramatic way that Meg laughed. Erik glared at her, a piercing gaze that landed straight into her heart. She quickly stopped.

"I'm sure it's nothing serious, Erik. I don't think she's hiding anything on purpose, especially from you. I just wanted to offer you my observations. Perhaps you should just keep an eye on her." Meg sighed in relief as Erik's gaze left hers. Erik nodded.

Erik returned to his seat at his desk, and resumed picking at his food. "Thank you, Meg. I appreciate you coming to me with your concerns."

"Anytime, Monsieur. No one cares for Christine more than you do…oh, and by the way, the mail came today. It's that bundle in the corner."

Erik gave Meg a rare smile as she turned to leave. "Pleasant dreams, young one…"

Erik finished the rest of his meal in solitude, pondering what Meg had said. Perhaps Christine was just tired? That could be the culprit behind her symptoms. If Christine had not been able to sleep because of his nightmares, then she would have of course tried to hide it from him…he really needed to speak with Christine. If she was tired and feeling unwell, then she should be able to tell her husband about it.

Erik reached for the bundle of mail. Several letters fell out; some were from wealthy gentleman requesting his presence at some function or another; news had apparently spread that Erik was the Opera Populaire's newest patron. However, the letter that grabbed his attention was encased in familiar packaging, and familiar writing was on the front. It was from Stefan Javere, and he opened it immediately. He read it, slowly and carefully, before throwing it down in disgust. A patron's day? What the Hell was a patron's day? The letter indicated that Erik's presence was needed the day after tomorrow at the Opera Populaire. Stefan wanted to introduce Erik to the other patron, and introduce him to the rest of the employees of the Opera House. This was just the thing that he had been trying to avoid. He had no time to send a letter of apology, filled with excuses as to why he would be unable to attend; and Erik was afraid that if he did not attend, then Stefan would not want him as patron. He was stuck between the proverbial 'rock and a hard place'. Erik also realized that he had a sinking suspicion who the other patron would be…his mind blurred in anger and hatred as he said one name out loud:

"De Chagny!"

* * *

The day of Erik's trip to Paris arrived bright and cheerful, and much sooner than Erik would have liked. Christine had helped him dress, carefully choosing an outfit that would not bring back the powerful memories of the Phantom. This was no easy task, considering that the majority of Erik's clothing was black and he had to wear a mask. They settled on a black mask similar to his white one, and dressed him simply in his finest clothes. Unbeknownst to Christine, Erik slipped a knife in his jacket, in easy reach should the need arise. He did not want to worry her unnecessarily, and so he did not mention it. Christine took a few steps back, to admire her husband.

"Erik, you look simply amazing! I feel apprehensive letting you go by yourself, with all those ballet girls that will swoon at the sight of you…" Erik grasped her hand firmly.

"Then come with me! I need you there, Christine. I don't know if I can do this alone…"

"Erik, you know that it wouldn't be a good idea. You have to appear as unlike the Phantom as you possible can, and if you show up with me on your arm without the people of the Opera House knowing you…they all know my weakness for the Phantom." Christine smiled mischievously, and Erik kissed her softly. "You'll be fine, my love. Just go, and remember that you are a man, and no ghost. I will be here when you get back." Erik nodded in defeat. Christine brightened.

"Oh Erik, will you bring me a surprise from Paris? I would love one so…" Erik grinned and nodded.

"Of course, my Angel…it would be a pleasure to pick out a treasure for you."

Christine and Erik walked to the door. Erik was going to ride on horseback. He reached for his cape, when Christine stopped him. "Wear your coat."

Erik grimaced, and reached for the long jacket that he had. It had a hood, but it fit close to his body, reaching to about his mid-knee. Christine smiled.

"You make me so proud, Erik. I love you, and be safe."

Erik kissed her fervently. "I love you too. I will not be gone long." Erik opened the door to their home, and was gone. Christine watched him through the door as Erik raced the horse toward the main road. This was the beginning, she realized. She turned back into the house, a small smile playing on her lips.

* * *

Erik arrived in Paris earlier than he had anticipated. He went straight to the Opera House, and left his horse in the care of the stable hands. Once released of his beast, Erik stood a moment, contemplating his next move. His steps took him automatically to the entrance of a secret passage that led to the catacombs of the Opera Populaire. He stopped himself just before he reached to open the entrance. _I am here on legitimate business! I am not the Phantom!_ Erik told himself this firmly and bravely walked through the stables and into the main part of the Opera House. He walked swiftly, and reached his destination quickly. Erik knocked politely on Stefan's door.

"Come in!"

Erik entered and, out of habit, found himself standing closely in the doorway's shadow. Stefan looked up from his papers, and his face broke into a wide grin.

"Erik! You're early…I hope that you're well? How is your wife?" Erik sat in the seat across from Stefan. He crossed his hands over his chest.

"I hope that it does not bother you that I am early, but I find tardiness unacceptable, therefore I often find myself early for my various engagements. I am as well as can be expected with your impromptu letter; why did I not get more warning about this appointment, Stefan?"

Stefan surveyed Erik briefly. "Because you wouldn't have come, Erik. You made that clear when we spoke of you attending the galas. I need you here, to support me. That is what a patron does. Unless, of course, you are having second thoughts of your agreement to become my patron?"

Erik uncrossed his hands to stare at them. "I want to be a patron, Stefan, I truly do. But I fear that I am not always…accepted when it comes to a social environment. I find myself often times offending people by merely standing next to them. I don't want to make this difficult on you, Stefan."

Stefan stared at Erik in confusion. "Why would there be any kind of problem? You are my patron; it was my decision, not the employees that work under me! You have nothing to worry about, my friend."

There was another knock on the door. "Ah, this must be our other patron!" Stefan said excitedly. "Come in, come in!"

The door opened, and just as Erik had assumed, in walked Vicomte Raoul de Chagny. Stefan rose from his seat, and looked pointedly at Erik. Erik rose as well, though hesitantly. The Vicomte went immediately toward Stefan and offered his hand.

"It is good to see you, Monsieur Javere. I hope all things go well?" The Vicomte's voice had the touch of nobility pride that Erik hated so much.

"Everything is as well as can be expected, dear Vicomte." Stefan indicated Erik.

"Vicomte, I am pleased to present our new patron, Monsieur Erik Massenet. Erik, this is Vicomte Raoul de Chagny."

Now with the introductions made, they were forced to acknowledge one another for the first time. There was a great pause; it seemed that they were waiting to see which one would speak first. Finally, the Vicomte sighed outwardly, and extended his hand.

"Pleasure to see you again, Monsieur." Erik could have killed the boy where he stood. They were not supposed to have known each other before now! With a shooting look from Erik, the Vicomte realized his error too late. Erik accepted his hand, and tried to crush the fop's fingers in a strong handshake. The boy held his own. They stood there a moment, still in a handshake, trying to determine who would be the lesser man and let go first. After several long moments, and with an anxious glance from Stefan, Erik conceded. The Vicomte stood back with a little bit of a smug look on his features, and Erik suppressed the urge to physically throw himself on to the unsuspecting boy and kill him with his bare hands.

Stefan shook his head, and indicated for the Vicomte to take a seat next to Erik. The boy did not even so much as glance at Erik. Erik, on the other hand, watched him closely, but not obviously. The Vicomte sat in the chair, but sat straight in his seat, in contrast to Erik, who was comfortably slouching.

"Do you two know each? I was under the impression that you had never met before…" Stefan trailed off with an inquisitive look on his face. The Vicomte answered with a laugh.

"Monsieur Massenet and I went through a series of classes with the sword master Gailer. I am sure you have heard of him?" When Stefan nodded, the Vicomte continued. "Erik and I were each other's rivals in the sword fighting lessons that we received. Although, I must say, the years have done wonders to you, my friend. You seem to have grown a little 'round the middle. I barely recognized you." The Vicomte placed that barely veiled jab to Erik, and Erik responded accordingly.

"Well, I have been married since the last time you saw me, Raoul. I guess my wife has been spoiling me with her wonderful cooking." At this, Erik was pleased to see Raoul's face turn an interesting shade of red. Stefan, sensing an argument, cut in.

"Please, gentleman. To business?"

Erik and Raoul glared at one another, but turned and allowed Stefan to speak. Stefan spoke of the various tasks that still needed to be performed around the Opera House. He turned to Erik.

"La Rose et la Nuit will be ready to perform in roughly three months time; I have scheduled the opening night to incorporate the necessary changes that still need to be made. But rest assured, all of Paris will hear you're wonderful composition, Erik."

Raoul had a look of disbelief on his face that he quickly turned into a smile. "You wrote the opera, Erik? Well, Monsieur Javere, let me tell you first hand, be prepared as all of the Opera House is brought down around the performers' head…because of the thunderous applause from the audience, of course."

Erik closed his eyes for a moment to restrain his wandering hands. His fingers had never itched for flesh quite like they did for the papered Vicomte's. Raoul seem to realize that he had crossed a line when Erik didn't retort, and he quickly rose to his feet.

"Perhaps, Stefan, it is time to make introductions to the staff of the Opera House?"

_Oh wonderful idea_, Erik thought sardonically. He rose as well, and followed the two men out the door. Raoul hung back a bit to walk alongside Erik.

"You might want to stay away from me, kid, I don't think I can stop myself from killing you…" Erik said in a low voice filled with hatred.

"You wouldn't dare. Your threats mean nothing to me, _Phantom_." At this, Erik looked quickly ahead. Stefan was preoccupied with a dancer at the moment. Erik flung the Vicomte against the wall as hard as he could.

"Never call me that! I have risked everything! This is mine only chance!" Erik hissed out to Raoul. Raoul looked at him coolly.

"I care nothing for you…I don't care if the whole company discovers who you used to be."

Erik sighed. He released the Vicomte, who stood shaking the dust from his shoulders.

"I care nothing for you either, Vicomte…but I do this only for Christine. You would do well to remember that." Erik turned his back on Raoul, exposing himself to him knowingly. Raoul could just reach into his jacket, pull out his small knife, and end it all, right now…but he didn't. He couldn't. He could not hurt Christine like that. Raoul would not soil himself in the blood of the Phantom, his mortal enemy. He caught up with Erik, and walked alongside him. Erik looked at him from the corner of his eye, and Raoul nodded up at him. They had an accord. An uneasy truce, one might say. Stefan looked up from the dancing girl.

"Gentleman, this way." Stefan continued to lead them to the stage. Once there, Erik discovered what looked like the entire company gathered together. He took a step backwards. What was he doing? He couldn't do this…He heard Stefan introduce Raoul, and he heard the thunderous approval of those gathered. It all sounded far away…all he could concentrate on was keeping his feet steady. He could not run away, even though that is what he so desperately wanted. He saw Raoul and Stefan turn to face him, and Stefan said his name as he raised his hand to him: Monsieur Erik Massenet. Erik stood stock still, still partially in the shadows. There was a polite round of applause, but mainly there were a lot of curious looks. The crowd gathered could not see Erik very well, and Erik didn't want to remove himself from the shadows. Erik was on the verge of panic, when a lone figure broke from the crowd to come toward him.

* * *

Christine was working diligently in her rose garden. The roses were her pride and joy, and she loved the feel of the warm spring sun pressed against her back. Nothing gave her a better feeling than to be here in her garden, singing softly to herself as she worked. Christine stood, her hand going to the small of her back. She had been weeding for the better part of the morning, and her back was beginning to ache with her efforts. Her stomach growled suddenly in the silence, reminding her that it was well past lunch time. She headed to the kitchen to make her a quick snack. Christine brought her food to her garden, and sat on the small bench that Erik had made for her. As she ate, she naturally thought of her husband. Erik had been so sheltered from the world; and now he found himself shoved head first into it. Christine did not think that she could truly understand what her husband was going through; all she could do was provide the support that he needed.

Christine rose from her bench and took the plate back toward the kitchen. On the way back to the garden, she got another dizzy spell. She sat quickly in a chair that was in the hallway leading to the backdoor. Christine fanned herself with her hand, and willed the spell to pass. She finally felt better, but like all the previous attacks she was left feeling weak and vulnerable. Christine was starting to become a little concerned…she had been dizzy an awful lot this week, and she didn't seem to be able to keep an appetite. And when she did eat, she found herself throwing up immediately afterwards. Come to think of it, these weren't her only symptoms. She felt sensitive in certain areas of her body, especially her breasts…Christine eyes widened in recognition. She hadn't had her monthly cycle in a while…she must be pregnant!

A feeling of such joy past over her being that she felt as if she would explode with happiness. A child…hers and Erik's child…together, in love, they had made a child.

Christine closed her eyes, willing herself to feel some other sign that would indicate that she was truly expecting. Could she sense another life in her? Could she sense movements of the tiny infant that she protected? The idea thrilled her to the core. She had always considered herself an empathetic person. And Erik, he sometimes could tell exactly what she was feeling. Erik. Suddenly Christine's wonderful happiness darkened a bit. What would he say? Would he be happy?

Christine walked to the garden, prepared to finish her weeding when she felt violently ill. She purged herself of the little food that she ate. Her body still purged, even when there was nothing left in her small stomach. Finally her heart couldn't take it anymore. She fainted, alone, amongst her roses…

* * *

Meg Giry broke away from her fellow Opera performers. She could feel Erik's eyes on hers, full of wonder and relief. She smiled reassuringly, and offered him her hand.

"Monsieur Massenet, it is an honor to meet the composer of the great Opera we are performing. I am Meg Giry, one of the ballerinas here at the Opera House," Meg said, loudly and to the rest of the crowd as well as Erik. They gasped and whispered amongst themselves at this announcement. Erik smiled, only to Meg, and mouthed _thank you_. He accepted her hand, and Meg slightly pulled him out of the shadows. His eyes went wide, but he recovered and kissed Meg's hand.

"It is _my_ honor to be able to serve this wonderful Opera House. Thank you for introducing yourself, Mademoiselle." Erik's voice held no tone that would indicate that he did not feel perfectly comfortable with the situation he found himself in. He was being stared at by the people that would put on his opera, and he was anxiously waiting the time when he could disappear in the shadows once more.

A chorus girl pushed her way to the front. "So it is true Sir? You are the man that composed this Opera?"

Erik looked directly at the young girl. "Yes, Mademoiselle, I am."

Everyone started talking at once. Some of the members of the crowd came forward to Erik, expressing how much they liked performing his work. A few went so far as to introduce themselves personally. There were a few, of course, that stood back and wondered out loud why their wealthy patron hid his face behind a mask…Erik was a bit relieved when he looked around at the faces surrounding him; there were many faces that Erik had never seen before. It seemed as if many of the old employees of the Opera House had left. This was only good news for Erik…perhaps many of the people here had never looked upon the face of the Opera Ghost. Erik did not like the feel of being the center of attention, and he sent a veiled pained look to Stefan, who took the hint.

"Ladies and Gentleman, Monsieur Vicomte and Monsieur Massenet are busy men. Please, you will meet them again shortly." With that having been said, the crowd began to disperse, and Erik and Raoul followed Stefan back to his office.

"Well, my friends, I would say that this was a wonderful success! Now, down to business, gentleman."

Erik was relieved. He had been through one of the hardest experiences of his life and had come out unscathed. He leaned in closer to hear Stefan more clearly. He heard Raoul say that he would return tomorrow to view the new additions to the Opera House. Erik was about to agree to come as well when he got the distinct feeling of happiness. He closed his eyes for a moment. It was so intense; it was so pure…where was it coming from? As suddenly as Erik had felt that feeling, another one took its place…Christine! There was something horribly wrong! Erik jumped from his seat, not bothering to acknowledge the bewildered looks on both Raoul's and Stefan's face.

"Oh, I am terribly sorry, Stefan, but I just realized that I am late for a previous engagement. Can I see you sometime tomorrow? I'm sorry but I must leave at once!" Erik rushed out of the room, headed for the stables, not bothering to hear a reply from Stefan. He had just saddled his horse when he heard his name being yelled.

"Erik! Stop!"

It was that damn Vicomte! Erik didn't have time. Something in his mind told him that he needed to get to Christine, as fast as he could. He reared his horse, and turned to leave the stable. The Vicomte was standing in his way.

"Move, damn you, there's no time! Leave me!"

"Erik, what's wrong? I know there is something…is it Christine? Tell me!"

Erik tried to move around Raoul, but he darted in the way. "I warn you once more before I run you over with this beast! Move!"

"Tell me, or I will go with you!"

Erik turned the head of his horse sharply, setting his piercing gaze straight into Raoul's. "I don't know what is wrong! I can't explain it. I just need to get to Christine, and I need to get to her now! Let me pass!"

Raoul paled at the pleading in Erik's voice. He stood aside, letting Erik gallop away. He could not explain why he didn't follow him, but the situation seemed too odd for a rash decision on his account. Raoul could only pray that Christine was all right…

* * *

Erik rode as fast as he could home. He didn't worry about exhausting his horse, he didn't worry about the fact that rain had begun to fall on his back; his thoughts centered on Christine. When the house finally came into view, he jumped from the horse's back and ran inside the house, screaming Christine's name, but she was nowhere to be found. Erik knew of only one more place to look: the garden. He ran back into the rain, and finally saw his beautifully Angel, lying in the garden, surrounded by rain and roses. He approached her, restraining himself from simply scooping her in his arms. Erik had to make sure that she was safe to move. There was a sour odor in the air that Erik recognized as vomit. He turned Christine gently to her side, and felt her body for injuries. She stirred from her unconsciousness, and she stared up at Erik with large, frightened eyes. "Erik…What's going on?"

Erik knew that she was safe to move. He picked her up gently; the rain was still beating down on them, soaking them to the bone. Erik entered the house and built a fire in the parlor room, setting Christine on to the couch. He fetched warm towels and blankets for her, and she gratefully toweled herself dry. Erik watched her carefully for any indication that she might become ill again, but she seemed fine. Erik found her some dry clothes and helped her change into them. Christine leaned back into the couch, and Erik spoke for the first time.

"What is it, my dear? Meg noticed earlier that you were acting strange…Are you ill? Should I go and get a doctor?" Erik kneeled beside Christine on the couch. "Please, tell me that you're all right…"

Christine smiled suddenly. Erik looked at her in confusion, and then remembered the warm feeling of her happiness. "Why are you so happy, Christine? I just found you in the garden, in the rain, unconscious…"

Christine grabbed Erik's hand and gently placed it upon her abdomen. "My Angel, we are going to have a baby…" Christine watched as Erik's face went through a million emotions. He just stared; he stared at his hand, he stared at her face…and then Christine saw fear in his eyes, and Erik jerked his hand away.

"No…this is not true…how can this happen?"

Christine smiled to reassure him. "How do you think?…I mean, we are married and all…just think of it, Erik…aren't you happy?"

"Happy! I'm supposed to be happy when I found you collapsed in the rain? I'm supposed to be happy when you feel sick all the time, and try to hide it from me? I did this to you! I am the one causing you this pain…"

"Erik, you're not causing this…my body has to change to accommodate the baby, Erik…that's why I feel sick. It will pass; and then we will have a baby, made with love, and made with a little piece of both of us living inside."

Erik looked at Christine in horror. "And what if you die? What if you have our child, and leave me? I cannot accept that, Christine. Never. And what if the child resembles me? What if the child has my deformity…oh Christine. This I cannot accept."

Christine looked at him, eyes bright with new found anger. "So you cannot accept this baby? It grows inside of me, Erik. It is a part of me! And I will be a mother, and you a father! You don't have a choice. You have to accept this."

"No I don't!" Erik roared suddenly, causing Christine to flinch. "I can't lose you…I can't." Erik turned from Christine, turned away from her angry eyes. He ran from the room and to the front door.

"Erik! Don't leave me! Please, don't leave!"

Those were the last cries that Erik heard as he slipped gratefully into the rain and the night…

* * *

Thank you to my brand new beta reader Lin! (pretend there is a whole crowd of people behind me, cheering) You have taken on an arduous task, my friend… 


	7. Finding Yourself

**Demons of the Past**

**Ch. 7 Finding Yourself**

**Author's note:** I wasn't very happy with this chapter…partly because I didn't want to write what I did…but the end results are much better. I wish I could elaborate, but that would give too much away, I fear. Please just hang in there with me. I hope to make it up to you…

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, but I do own the Punjab lasso! (Erik taps me on the shoulder and demands it back with _the look_ in his eyes…yikes!)_

**P.S.:** **Son Kat**: Once again, I truly enjoy the reviews that you send me. Thank you so much for liking my stories. I hate that you were late for school! (On a side note, I read in your bio about the bad review, and I read it myself. Some people flame an idea, but what you have to do is write for yourself. Don't let one bad review from a meanie get you down. It's not worth that. A bad review is something that every writer dreads. (I know that I do!) Unavoidably, someone will read your work and just not like it. Don't take it personally.) By the way: I like your story 'Forget Me Not'. Thank you to **Emily** as well; I'm glad that I was able to grant your request without knowing. Maybe I am psychic. LoL Please don't hate me after this chapter. Remember, I am EC forever!

And now, on with the story…

* * *

Christine awakened to find the house empty. She had cried herself to sleep on the couch in the parlor room, hoping to wake when her husband came home. He never arrived. Christine stretched a bit, and looked around the room hopefully; maybe her husband was home, and Christine couldn't see him…Christine ran about the house, shouting Erik's name…Christine stopped in her bedroom, sitting on the still made bed. He had not returned, just as she had feared. And what was worse, Christine had the vague sense that something wasn't right within her…something was wrong. She needed Erik; she needed his strong arms about her. But he wasn't there. Christine dressed swiftly. She had to talk to someone who would understand her condition; someone who could tell her what was wrong. There was only one person who came to mind: Madam Giry.

Christine went swiftly to Erik's office. She did not enter this room very often; simply for the reason that it was Erik's personal room. It was a small room; hardly suitable for a bedroom. It was dark and quiet, and had the air of a library; Erik had a vast collection of musty books on all subjects. Christine just sat a moment at his desk, smelling the air around her. It was so masculine…it was so _Erik_. Christine felt the sadness in her soul. She closed her eyes and prayed: _Please God, let Erik accept this child. Let him love it as he loves me…_Christine took a piece of paper from one of the drawers of Erik's desk, and wrote a quick note explaining that she had gone to the Opera House to speak with Madam Giry. She urged him to join her there later. Christine walked out of the room, careful to shut the door behind her. She went to her garden, and picked a single red rose. Christine smiled slightly to herself as she tied her note to the rose. She entered Erik's music room, and laid the rose on the small desk where he read his mail. Christine made sure that the note was in plain view. She turned, and walked calmly to the front of the house. Christine put on her cloak, and wondered on her next move. _It's not a good idea to ride horseback_, she thought, judging rationally that it might hurt her child. _I'll hitch the wagon to the mare, and leave Erik his stallion_, Christine finally decided, thinking that was the best way to handle the situation.

Christine glanced once more about the house, making sure everything was in place. She finally left the house, the door clicking shut behind her with a sense of finality that she found disturbing…

* * *

Erik was alone. Why was he alone? And why did his back hurt so much? Erik opened his eyes to find the sun bright overhead. _It must be midday_, Erik thought sleepily. _Why hasn't Christine dragged me out of bed for breakfast?_ It was then, in a rush, that the events of the previous day came flooding back to him. Erik's eyes snapped open, and he stared in surprise at his surroundings. He was lying in his spot by the river. He had slept here; all night…Christine must be worried sick! Erik rose quickly from his position and started walking toward the house. As he walked, he tried to think on what he had learned from Christine. It was so hard for Erik to comprehend that he was going to be a father…but hadn't something deep down anticipated this? Hadn't he talked this through with himself, and discovered that it would be wonderful to have a child? But that was before. That was before Erik realized that for Christine to carry his child there would be heavy risks for her own safety. Erik wanted children; he wanted to see Christine's curls on a child with his eyes…but he would not sacrifice Christine. And that was the answer. The only answer. Erik had to keep Christine safe, he had to protect her, guard her…and he couldn't do that if he was the one hurting her in the first place. _Ah, but Erik_, a voice in his mind whispered, _is this not the beginnings of the madness that you found yourself in not so long ago? What can you do now to help Christine? You have done enough_…**No**! Erik shook himself, willing the voices to stop. These evil voices always filled his head with treacherous thoughts…like strangling Piangi…and dropping the chandelier…Erik sank slowly to the ground, clutching his head. _There is a way to help Christine, Erik_, the voices continued, louder this time. _You could rid her of the child…it would be so easy…you know the tonic to do it_…**NO**! Erik rose again from the ground. He could never do that to Christine, never hurt her like that..._It would only hurt her for a time_, the voices assured him. _And she would be safe_.

Erik continued to walk. He was not the Phantom. The voices…they belonged to the Phantom. He had to banish it from his mind. Erik was a man, a husband, a soon-to-be father. He could control himself…he was a genius; his intellect knew no bounds. Then why was there madness in his mind? Why was the Phantom still there, inside his mind? All these thoughts luckily left Erik as his home came into view.

Erik rushed into the house, calling for Christine. All that met him was silence…uncomfortable, surrounding, choking silence. She was gone…she had left him! Erik closed his eyes, his body shaky uncontrollably. The voices in his head grew louder and louder, screaming at him, jeering at him…she had abandoned him! Where was she? _Ah, but Erik, you know right where she is_, the sly voices said, dominating his mind. _You know who she would turn to, don't you? Don't you wish now you had listened to me and killed him when you had the chance?_ **NO! It's not true. It's not real…She didn't leave me for him**. _Are you so sure, Erik? Aren't you tired yet of trying to be normal? Are you ready to regain our power?_ Power…power to keep Christine with him. She was his!

"She belongs to me!" The Phantom roared, his voice echoing across the house as only his voice could do. The Phantom stared at the unfamiliar room he found himself in. He laughed as he destroyed the room, scattering music and books everywhere. He eyed the small desk, and saw a red rose. The Phantom smiled, and picked the rose up, paying no mind to the note attached. He crushed the rose petals in his hand. He turned and stood in the center of the destroyed music room, throwing his head back in a maniacal laugh. The Phantom reached out and grabbed a picture that was hanging on the wall. He recognized it as a picture that he had drawn. How dare someone display his art! The Phantom started to slam the picture to the ground, when suddenly his eyes registered that the person portrayed in the picture was…CHRISTINE! The Phantom fell to his knees, his hands going to his head. A moment later, Erik stood up, and carefully surveyed the destruction around him. His head…it ached so…how did this happen? But in his heart he knew that he had done this…the Phantom had gained control. Erik was perspiring heavily. He had to control him…he could not let this happen again. He had given that life up for something better. Erik had to find Christine. _Because she belongs to us_, the Phantom's voice whispered. **No. I will find Christine because I love her, not because she is my possession…I never truly realized how twisted I was in my love for her**…

Erik left the house, thinking that the one place Christine would go would be the Opera Populaire…perhaps she had left to speak with Meg, or Madam Giry. Erik knew that he had to find her, and find her soon. He needed to apologize, to beg for forgiveness. Erik saddled his horse, and rode fast for the Opera House. But he still had the Phantom's voice in his head…this time laughing in glee…_Ah, we go home!_

* * *

Christine entered the Opera Populaire around midday. She had driven slowly and carefully, afraid that she might hurt her baby by riding fast. Christine walked through the tangle of servants dusting and sweeping, trying to find her way to Madam Giry's room. She was stopped by a voice.

"Christine! Christine, wait!"

Christine turned and saw a flushed faced Raoul running toward her. She smiled at him.

"Where's the fire, Vicomte? I should think that all that has been put out by now…"

Raoul smiled, and laughed quietly. "I just saw you enter, my dear, and I wanted to see how you were. Is everything all right?"

"Of course, Raoul, everything is wonderful. What brings you here today?"

Raoul rolled his eyes, and gestured around him with his hands. "I am inspecting today. Care to join me? It would be less dull…" Raoul looked at her hopefully, but Christine shook her head.

"Another time, my friend. I am actually looking for Madam Giry. Have you seen her?"

Raoul thought for a moment. "Now that you mention it, I think that I saw her headed toward her room, about a half hour ago. She could still be there…or she could be yelling at the ballet brats."

Christine eyed him slightly. "I use to be one of those 'ballet brats', Vicomte. You should remember."

Raoul blushed slightly. "No offense, Christine. Would you like me to escort you?"

Christine smiled to let him know that all was forgiven. "Thank you Raoul, but I think that I can handle this on my own. Have fun with your inspection."

Raoul grimaced at her statement. He leaned forward and hugged Christine tightly. Christine was a bit shocked, and stood rather rigid in his embrace.

"If you ever need anything, please don't hesitate to ask." Raoul broke the embrace. Christine nodded.

"Goodbye, Raoul. I'm sure we will see each other again."

Raoul nodded. "Count on it." Raoul took the left exit, heading toward the stage. Christine started to move to the right when a strong hand grabbed her arm and pulled her into the shadows of some heavy curtains.

"Erik! You're here! I was so worried when you didn't come home last night…" Christine's voice trailed off as she saw the look of anger in her husband's eyes.

"Oh, I can see how worried you were, Madam! You came straight here, to find your precious Vicomte, to comfort your poor heart!" Erik spat out the words, still holding Christine roughly by the arm.

"Erik, that wasn't what happened! He was saying hello…"

"Oh, and I'm suppose to believe that! 'I'm sure we will see each other again' What was that, Christine? So you wish to see him in private? Or in secret?" Erik didn't finish his train of thought. Christine's free hand came forward and slapped him hard across the face.

"How dare you! How dare you insinuate such things against me! You know nothing!" Christine tried to jerk out of her husbands arms, but a dangerous glint had come into Erik's eyes.

"You belong to me…" he whispered, his eyes bright with madness. Christine's eyes widened. This was not Erik's voice…this was the voice of something else…

"You are not my husband! I don't know who you are! Let me go, monster!" Christine shrieked, her voice rising. The look of madness in Erik's eyes died with the word 'monster', and he released his wife. Christine ran from him, tears streaming down her face. Erik stood completely still. What had he done? The anger and pain had taken over when he saw Christine and Raoul embracing. Oh, what had he done! He started to move away from the shadows when he was pushed back into them.

"You bastard! You incomparable bastard! What have you done?" Raoul's face was there before Erik's, red with rage. He had apparently heard the argument between Erik and Christine. Erik just stared at him; unable to register what he was saying…which was a good thing for Raoul. His thoughts were on more important things. Why would Christine come to the Opera House, if not to see Raoul? But wait…how could Christine have known that Raoul would be here? Erik knew from his meeting with Stefan that Raoul would be present in the morning hours, but Christine knew nothing of that; Erik never spoke of it. Erik's eyes focused back on Raoul's face. He was still forcibly holding Erik back.

"She just came to see Madam Giry…she did nothing inappropriate! How dare you make her weep! Are you listening to me, demon?"

A light flared in Erik's mind at the Raoul's voice. He finally understood it all. Christine was frightened; he had left her in the night and not returned. She had been ill yesterday…what if she sought advice on her delicate condition? It would be perfectly logically for Christine to turn to Madam Giry, or foster mother, and not the fool of a Vicomte…which meant…

Erik shoved Raoul out of the way, causing him to fall ungracefully to the floor. Raoul landed hard on his backside, gasping for air as the breath was knocked out of him.

"Don't ever touch me again," Erik said in a low voice. He swept away from him, but Raoul shouted behind him:

"I am waiting! I am waiting in the wings for her to realize that your love is false!"

The cry followed Erik has he searched for Christine.

* * *

The only place that Christine would go when she felt scared or anger was the chapel. Erik often went to the roof; it offered him much more solace than the dark, trapped space of the chapel. _To each his own_, Erik thought wearily, as he entered the cramped space. Sure enough, Christine was kneeling before a rack of candles. Instead of the usual one candle for her father, Christine had two candles lit. Erik didn't bother to announce his presence. Christine knew that he was there.

Erik walked closer, his silence footfalls heavy in his mind. He kneeled beside her, and looked at her. Christine's eyes were still shut in prayer, and Erik did not want to interrupt. Finally, her chocolate eyes opened, and she glanced into Erik's blue-green ones. Erik opened his mouth to speak, but she silenced him with a look.

"Don't. Just don't. I have no desire to hear your apologies…," Christine's voice was cold and shook slightly as she spoke. "I can't take it anymore. I can't handle the insecurities. I can't handle your jealousy. I…can't handle your suspicions. Do you think so little of me, of our marriage, our commitment, that you think that I would throw that away to be with someone else? It hurts me so much to know that you will never trust me completely. You don't even trust yourself! I am a woman, Erik, not a possession to be had. I thought that you realized this. But you don't…the Phantom is still there…"

Erik still kneeled on the floor, frozen in place by the pain and heartbreak in her words. He tried to speak again, but Christine beat him to it.

"All of these things I have tried to work out. I have tried to be supportive, I have tried to tear down your walls, I have tried to show you my light, instead of your darkness…but I can't any longer. I carry our child, Erik…and I cannot change how you feel about it. But know this: I will protect my baby from the evils of the world; even if that means protecting it from you!" Christine screamed as the last of her will dissolved. She collapsed, her hands going before her head in an awkward bow as she cried. Erik wrapped her in his arms; he tried to comfort her; but found that he could not say what she needed to hear. He couldn't change…he didn't know how. Christine calmed herself, and calmly stood up, shaking the lingering effects of Erik's embrace. Erik was crying softly.

"Christine, I love you! Everything I am is made in my love for you!" Erik was pleading; he knew that she was going to leave. Christine turned and looked at him, the expression sad and sorrowful.

"It's not enough. I love you, as I love our child…but you have to find yourself, Erik, and I fear that it is a journey that you alone can take. Before you can be my husband, and a father, you have to be simply _Erik_. Can you do that? I know in my heart that the answer is yes, and when you find your soul then you will be ready to return to me. But I can't heal your soul…I've tried. Only you can do that and only if you choose to…"

Christine kneeled in front of her weeping husband. She kissed away his tears, and smoothed his hair. "Erik, go. Go, with my love and blessing, and find yourself. I will be here when you return." Christine smiled, and Erik felt her warmth surround him.

Erik stood, composing himself. He looked at Christine. "I will go…but I will always know if you need me…we're connected through our souls…talk to me in your dreams, as you use to do…" Erik embraced his wife. "I don't want to do this," Erik whispered.

"But you must. You must trust me…and yourself."

Erik nodded slowly. He turned to leave the chapel. Christine's voice floated up to him.

"Seek out your mother, Erik. Seek her out."

In a flash, Erik was gone.

Christine didn't know if Erik heard her or not. "I love you…" Christine called into the emptiness of the room. She slowly stood up, and walked out of the room, her heart filled with sadness…and hope. She wandered out of the darkness of the chapel, and went in search of Madam Giry. Christine needed to know if her old room was available…

* * *

I feel as if I owe some kind of explanation for Erik's behavior in this chapter. I feel that the trauma and pain that he suffered under would be enough to turn anyone a little mad…I just want to show a bit of the conflict within him; I want to add some depth to his character. It's hard to make the transition from the Phantom of the Opera to Erik: from a ghost to a man. I'm sorry if I confused anyone; I debated a little while after I tuned this chapter in to my beta Lin whether or not I should change it. I don't think that Erik has multiple personality disorder or something to that extreme; it's more about the personas that we use to go through our daily lives. I, as a 19 year old, live the personas of a child, student, teacher, friend, etc.; and I act differently in each role. Erik has had only one persona for so long: a persona that protected and sheltered him. I hope that I have explained myself a bit. Thank you!

**P.S.** YEEEAAA LIN!


	8. Let the Dream Begin

**Demons of the Past**

**Ch. 8 Let the Dream Begin**

**Author's note:** My brother Alan once again provided the lyrics to Erik's Lullaby; this time, however, they are entirely his. Hope you like! And please…help his ego a bit. If you like it, let me know!

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera. I especially do not own the movie. And I most definitely do not own that creepy giggle that Raoul does in 'Little Lotte'…maybe it's just me and I have listened to the soundtrack too many times…_

And now, on with the story…

* * *

His feet had taken him away from Christine; away from her pleading voice and swollen eyes. He found himself back in his old home; his old domain. Erik had not been back to his lair since he had left that dark night with Christine. It had not been so long ago…Erik would have most likely been at his pipe organ; or maybe he would have been drawing or painting. Or maybe he wouldn't have even been in his lair; perhaps he would have been watching Christine perform, or seeing to his various _business_ arrangements in the Opera House. Had his old life really been that bad? Had his self imposed exile been that unbearable? Erik laughed softly at himself. Of course it had been. It had been horrible; to live in such a way that you were constantly in contact with a world that you could never touch! And how he had so desperately wanted to…Erik could see himself, performing in front of a full house, his deep, melodic voice hypnotizing all that heard. He would have loved to be among the living instead of the dead.

As Erik glanced about, he realized that this place did not remotely resemble his lost home. He had moved on. Erik realized, with a jolt, that he had accepted his years here. He had had so much pain and anguish; but he had found so much love and compassion as well. Had he expected to find solace here, amongst old memories? He found no comfort being here; only emptiness. There were no feelings left in Erik. He was cold; he was numb.

Numb. When had he become so numb? Had it always been this way? Had he always been so detached? Erik kept everyone at arm's length; in his own way he felt that he could protect the people he cared about better if they could not see his black soul. But then again, how many people in his life did he truly care for? How many people had come close to seeing him in the light? Erik cared for Marie, but she had never touched his spirit as Christine had. Christine was the only one who had seen him as he truly was and not flinched away at the horrendous sight. And Erik wasn't simply talking about his appearance. **It's in your soul, where the true distortion lies**…

Erik looked into a broken mirror. The image that greeted him was one of a man, simply dressed, and concealing himself behind a dark mask. Erik's mask hid more than his face…it hid the imperfections in his soul. Erik did not miss the irony of having a deformity on one side of his face only; his left side was handsome and perfect, and his right one hideous and flawed: a metaphor for the conflict within him. Erik reasoned that most people had darkness born within them; he was just unlucky enough to be born with his darkness in plain view to those around him. Erik calmly removed the mask from his face. His reflection returned to him indistinct and broken. Erik did not rage at what he saw there; he simply saw the same thing that he had seen as a child: a monster. A monster stared back at him that could not accept love and happiness; a monster who had almost lost everything for its own foolish pride.

Erik looked at his reflection until he could bear it no longer. He closed his eyes and tried to remember the first time that Christine had entered his strange, mystical world; the night he had brought her to his dungeon. He knew that she was in shock over seeing her Angel of Music as a tangible man; nevertheless Erik would always remember her eyes as he sang to her of the Music of the Night. Her sparkling brown eyes had been wide and adoring; he had shaped and molded his voice to flow over every part of Christine. His sweet song was not one of seduction. Erik's intentions had been purer than that. He had wanted her love. Erik truly thought that Christine would love him for his voice and nothing else; and at the time, he would have accepted that. But Christine proved more than that. As she did time after time.

The Music of the Night. Erik had thought that it had died the moment that Christine's lips had touched his in the kiss that had changed his life; it was the moment that he realized that he could never truly have her. Her heart and soul belonged to the music that he had cherished for so long. But Christine had made him see. Christine understood him better than he knew himself.

Erik circled his former lair. This was not his home anymore. Not even the little cottage outside of Paris was his home. His home was wherever Christine was.

_Should I seek out my mother?_ Erik pondered this question intently. Christine had suggested that the key to his past might lie with his mother. Could he stand to see her? Oddly, Erik's mind did not fill with the poison of anger and hatred; for once, Erik saw the wisdom in trying to confront his darkest past. He could gain closure; he could close a part of his mind that hid the madness. Or would he simply kill his mother on first sight? Erik sighed. He truly didn't know the answer. Perhaps he could get answers, and then kill her. That seemed more logically…but at the same time, Erik was tired of the blood that stained his hands. One more death would merely scar him more. Erik took no comfort in scars, both physical and mental. Scars reminded Erik that the past was all too real; and it was a haunting reminder.

Erik made his way back to the secret passageways that he thought he would never haunt again. His mind was set. Erik would find himself; and in doing so he would finally be allowed to put his atrocious past behind him. He would put his mother behind him, he would put the gypsies behind him, and once and for all, he would put the Phantom behind him. He would be clear and untainted, just like Christine.

Erik let his mind wander towards his unborn child. He so desperately wanted a life that he could be proud of, with no secrets, simply so that he could completely love the child that he and Christine had created. And he would accomplish his goals. Erik felt a ghost of a smile slip onto his face. He had never before failed in a goal he had set for himself; and for once, Erik's intentions were entirely pure.

He exited the passageway at the stables, striding toward his horse with more confidence than he felt. Erik did not know where his path would take him. He knew that everything was understood by Stefan; Erik had put his and Christine's affairs in order before he had ever returned to his lair. Stefan and Madam Giry would watch after Christine…he had no doubts. Erik did not like the feeling of being spontaneous; he liked things to be well planned in advance, with no mysteries or unknowns. Right now, the only thing that Erik knew for sure was that his journey would take him away from Christine. _But by leaving Christine, I will be able to give her the life that she deserves. The husband that she deserves_. Erik felt his heart swell with new found assurance, and he made up his mind on his first destination. Erik would return to his cottage and gather his thoughts; he would make his plans carefully. But he knew one thing:

Erik would find his mother. And Erik would get the answers he sought…and damn anyone to the deepest pits of Hell who tried to stop him!

* * *

_I am late! How did I let this happen?_ Madam Giry's thoughts were frantic as she made her way to her manager's office. Stefan Javere had requested her presence at a meeting that began ten minutes ago. She walked as fast as she could, arriving slightly out of breath before M. Javere's office. Well, maybe a lot out of breath: Madam Giry clung to the door frame as if she were about to fall, trying in vain to catch her breath. She recovered somewhat, and knocked to announce herself.

"Ah, Madam Giry! I have been expecting you," Javere said as Madam Giry opened the door. He rose from his desk chair and offered a bow in greeting.

"Monsieur, please excuse my tardiness; I simply let time escape me for a moment." Madam Giry curtsied, and gratefully sat in a chair opposite Javere.

"Not at all, Madam. You have been working to hard, I fear. In fact, that is the reason for this meeting."

Madam Giry looked up in alarm. "Are you not pleased with the dancers, Monsieur? Is there something wrong with the ballet choreography?"

Javere smiled. "No, nothing of the sort! Erik informs me that your eye for dance is impeccable; he trusts you completely with the performance of his work; as do I. It occurs to me, however, that the ballet is almost complete, and we have three months yet of rehearsals before the actual show. I fear that your pace with the dancers is much too fast."

Now it was Madam Giry's turn to smile. "Believe me, Monsieur, that is a good thing! It means that my dancers will have now 'til gala night to make sure that their steps are perfect!"

"Well, just don't exhaust the dancers, Madam…or yourself. Remember to breath every once in a while." Javere eyes twinkled. Madam Giry blushed.

"Of course, Monsieur. Is that all?"

"Well, there is one more thing, but it is on a more personal level. You are a family friend to Erik Massenet, correct?"

Madam Giry looked at Javere in confusion. Why would he be asking her about Erik? "Of course, Monsieur, I consider him and Christine as family."

Javere stood from behind his desk, and walked toward the door, his hands settling to the small of his back. "I had a rather disturbing talk with him earlier today. He said that he had pressing business to attend to elsewhere, and would be unable to return for months; he could not give me a projected time of his return. I know I have only known Erik for a short time, but he acted very reluctantly and anxiously…and he made me give my word to allow his wife to stay here, if she so desired. It is such an odd request! Do you know anything about this, Madam? Madam?"

Madam Giry had turned white. She glanced at M. Javere, and shook her head slightly. "I was unaware that Erik had plans to leave Paris. And you say that he has been here today, Monsieur? Is Christine also here?"

Javere thought for a moment and then nodded. "Madam Massenet is here, Madam Giry. I saw her earlier today with the Vicomte de Chagny. I do believe that they know each other; they were very friendly towards one another."

Madam Giry had a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. What had happened? She knew that since Erik was now married their relationship had changed a bit, but for him to leave without a word to her, not even goodbye? It had never happened before. Something was wrong, and Madam Giry was determined to not only discover the disturbance, but to also try and correct whatever had gone wrong. _And with Erik_, she thought scathingly, _the possibilities of what could go wrong were endless._

* * *

Practice had just ended for Meg Giry. She was walking down the corridors of the Opera House, heading back to her room. She walked past the chapel and paused. Was that a voice? Meg peered into the chapel, and was delighted to see Christine. She was kneeled before two lit candles; Christine prayed diligently under her breath. Meg came forward as quietly as she could, but Christine still heard her approach. Christine turned, and gave her best friend a small smile in greeting.

"Christine! What are you doing here? Is Erik with you?" At Erik's name Christine winced visibly. Meg could see the build up of tears in her friend's eyes. She reached forward and gripped Christine's shoulder.

"Christine? What's wrong?"

"I sent Erik away…I told him to leave…" Christine voice was barely a whisper in the silence. Meg stared in disbelief.

"You sent him away? And he actually left you? Christine, what in God's name is going on? Why would Erik leave you?" Meg pressed Christine gently into a comforting embrace, and Christine closed her eyes in gratitude. Meg smoothed her hair, murmuring words of comfort and care, until Christine pulled away.

"It's a long story, Meg, but it started when I told him I was pregnant…"

* * *

Meg took Christine straight to her room. She was trying to absorb all that her friend had told her. Meg was worried about Christine's and Erik's marriage, but what concerned her more was Christine's uneasiness about her unborn child. Christine kept insisting that she knew something was wrong; she didn't feel well, she was weak and dizzy all the time, she hadn't been able to eat much without vomiting. Meg tried to reassure her that all of her symptoms were normal at the beginning of a pregnancy. Christine just smiled and asked Meg how many babies she had birthed Christine was not turned by any of Meg's optimistic thoughts, and so Meg went in search of her mother. _Mother will surely be able to calm Christine's nerves_, she thought. _Oh, what a mess this is!_ Meg's thoughts turned sharply to Erik.

Meg was furious at Erik. How could he have said those things to Christine? Christine had given up everything for his love; and his repayment was to abandon her, alone and with child…how could Erik not accept his own child? Meg hoped she didn't see him for a while…otherwise he would know the wrath of Little Meg! No one messed with her best friend…

"Excuse, Monsieur," Meg stopped a random stage hand that was walking by. "Have you seen Madam Giry? I have looked everywhere."

The stage hand smiled as he looked her over. His eyes automatically wandered to about mid level…Meg repressed the snarl from her lips, hoping that this man could be civil for five more minutes, but she could not suppress her scathing tongue. "Excuse me, Monsieur, but is the answer to my question written on my breasts? Were you just checking?"

The stage hand had the decency to blush, and he stammered out that he knew that Madam Giry was in a meeting with Manager Javere. Meg thanked him for the information courteously, and she headed toward Javere's office. Half way there, she found her mother in an almost dead run. Meg reached for her mother, trying to calm her down.

"Whoa, what's wrong? Calm down, Mother, I fear that you will give yourself a heart attack…"

Madam Giry looked at her daughter, her face red from her effort. "I have just learned that Erik is planning to leave for a long period of time! And he intends to leave Christine here at the Opera House! I must find Christine! I have to know what's going on."

"Mother, Christine is in my room. I have spoken with her, and she's fine. She even has some special news that I am sure that she will want to tell you in person." Meg shifted slightly on her feet, not wanting to spread Christine's news without permission. Her mother shot her a look that said 'I'm not buying that for a minute you had better tell me now!'. It was amazing what her mother could convey with a single look.

Meg lowered her voice. "She's pregnant, Mother. And she's terrified."

Madam Giry leaned heavily against the wall. So this was the problem. She had feared this.

"And what of Erik? Why is he leaving?"

Meg looked at her mother with sad eyes. "He wouldn't accept the baby…he found Christine yesterday collapsed in the garden. It was storming, and Christine remembers nothing but waking up to find Erik there with her, soaking wet. She had figured out her condition earlier in the day, and she told Erik."

Madam Giry nodded for her to continue. "And then?"

"He exploded. Erik told Christine that he could never accept a child that might endanger her life. I…Erik is so worried for Christine's life that he doesn't see how happy she is to be carrying his child. He left in the night, and didn't come back. Christine felt strange the next morning; she feels that something is wrong with her pregnancy. She seeks your advise, Mother. But before she could find you, Raoul found her…"

Madam Giry closed her eyes. "Don't continue. I can piece it together from there. Erik saw Christine and Raoul together and thought the worse. Did he abandon Christine?"

Meg shook her head slightly. "No, Mother. Christine sent him away."

Madam Giry touched her hand to her face in shock. "What? What do you mean?"

Meg just looked at her hands. "Christine told Erik that for their marriage to be able to continue he must decide what he truly wants out of life. Erik must confront the demons of his past before they become the demons that plague his present happiness. He has gone in search of his mother, from what I understand."

Silence followed Meg's last statement. Madam Giry did not know what to think. What a mess! She looked at her daughter and gave her an encouraging smile.

"Take me to Christine. I daresay that we will have our family together again, at least for a little while."

* * *

Madam Giry now found herself on the way to Christine's house. She had insisted on going and retrieving some of Christine's things for her. Madam Giry was not too overly concerned with Christine's discomfort in her early stages of pregnancy. She had sent for a doctor, just to be safe. Madam Giry rode alone in the coach of the carriage. This time when she had called for a driver, she had made sure that the man would help her with the luggage. Madam Giry leaned a bit from the window, looking for any signs at all that Erik might have returned home before starting on his trip. Half of her wanted to see him, to make sure that everything was all right…and half of her didn't want to see him at all, for fear that she would throttle him before she could stop herself. Madam Giry felt the carriage stop, and she casually opened the door to let herself out.

"Monsieur, if you please, I will be but a moment. I will call you when I need your assistance."

The driver nodded pleasantly, and Madam Giry walked forward to the house. As soon as she opened the door, she heard the most beautiful music that she had ever heard. She smiled a little to herself; _Well, now I know that Erik is home_. Madam Giry approached the music room. She heard the music stop every once in a while, and the scratch of a quill take its place. The door to the music room was closed. Madam Giry hesitantly reached for the doorknob; then, with resolve, she opened the door to reveal: chaos. Chaos was all around her in the form of a terribly destroyed room, and Erik was sitting directly in the middle of the chaos with his violin. He took no notice of her; he merely continued to write something down on the paper in front of him. Finally looking satisfied, he pulled his violin to his chin and played.

The music was soothing and soft, but with a hint of darkness hidden within. It was…haunting, in a way. The hairs on the back of Madam Giry's neck stood straight up. Erik, once again, seemed lost in his own world. Suddenly, Erik's own voice rose to match the beautiful melody of his violin.

**As night falls,  
****You hear a call,  
****A voice whispering to you.  
****But have no fear  
****Because I am here  
****Always and forever true.**

**Sweet Angel, don't cry,  
****I'll always try  
****To keep you from harm.  
****Don't fear the dark  
****My beautiful lark,  
****There's no cause for alarm.**

**Angel Child  
****So sweet and mild  
****My Love will always be with you.  
****Though I am away  
****I'll always stay  
****With you, there inside you.**

**You are my gift to the world,  
****A pure and honest thing hurled  
****Into the wilds of the Earth.  
****I think of you,  
****So beautiful, so new  
****The wonder of your birth.**

**Angel Child  
****So sweet and mild  
****My Love will always be with you.  
****Though I am away  
****I'll always stay  
****With you, there inside you.**

**I see you there,  
****Without a care,  
****Watching the World go by…  
****My sweet child,  
****So gentle and mild  
****Listen to my lullaby.**

Erik stopped, filling the air with silence. He paused before setting his violin to the floor. He rose to his feet and walked toward Madam Giry. Tears were rolling down her face. Erik reached and touched her shoulder, and Madam Giry tugged him into a tight embrace. Without a word, Erik left the room.

Madam Giry had never heard a more angelic song in all her years working at the Opera House. Erik's music spoke with a voice that seemed to whisper the passion, the love, the wonderment of creating a new life…Erik truly wanted his child. Madam Giry's tears of beauty turned to tears of relief. Erik would not abandon Christine; Madam Giry felt silly to even consider the thought. Madam Giry went upstairs and packed all the things that she felt Christine might need. When she returned downstairs, she noticed a white letter lying on the floor next to the door. She picked the letter up and inspected it. It read, in a familiar flowing script, simply _Christine_. Madam Giry dutifully tucked the note into her dress. She had always been the one to deliver Erik's letters; and Madam Giry had no doubt that this letter would be the most pleasant to give.

* * *

Christine looked about her old bedroom, memories overflowing her mind. Meg gently pushed her forward into the bed.

"Christine, the doctor will be here shortly to see you. Do you want me to stay?"

Christine nodded firmly. Meg grabbed a chair from across the room and pulled it toward the bed. Meg sat, then frowned. Christine glanced at her friend in amusement. Meg was obviously battling herself over something she wanted to say; Christine had seen the look before. Meg nodded to herself and reached for Christine's hand.

"My friend, I will not pry. I promise you. But there is one thing I must know…do you still love Erik, after all that has happened?"

Christine pulled her hand away sharply. "What kind of question is that! How dare you ask me such a thing! Of course I still love my husband! I love Erik with all my heart and soul. Without him, there is no me. He goes with my love, at my bidding, and he knows this! My heart will remain broken until the moment that he returns to me. And, God knows, when he returns, we will be a family. I know it."

Meg looked at Christine's eyes, so full of hope and fire. She nodded. "I am sorry, my friend. I just don't want Erik to hurt you."

Christine's eyes softened at once. "I know, Meg. I'm sorry that I yelled. It's just that so much has happen over such a short period of time. Just think, this time a week ago, I didn't even know I was pregnant."

There was a gasp that came from neither Meg nor Christine. They looked up in alarm at the source of the sound, and discovered Raoul standing in the doorway. He had clearly heard Christine. Meg rose angrily from her chair.

"Vicomte, you go too far! How dare you enter a lady's room without knocking?" Meg physically put herself between Christine and Raoul. Raoul seemed not to notice Meg.

"Is it true, Christine? You are carrying…_his_ child?" Christine regarded Raoul coolly.

"It is no business of yours, Monsieur. I am a married woman…"

"He left you! I saw your argument! What kind of man would abandon his wife when she is with child? Oh, I'm sorry, I keep forgetting…your husband is hardly a man."

"How dare you speak about my husband! He is more of a man than you!" Raoul's face turned bright red, and he pushed Meg to the side. He came toward Christine, and leaned down at her ear. His words were soft, but betrayed none of the anger that was whirling within him.

"I knew this would not last. I knew you would regret your choice. Was it even your own choice, Christine? Or was it the Phantom 'inside your mind'? You said yourself that he had a power over you, my dear. You are a prize to him, and nothing more. I could have made you so happy, Christine. I can still make you happy. He cares for you, I know…but he is not here, when you need him the most. But I am, Christine, and I always will be. Please, use this as your chance to escape. Use this as your chance to be free of that self-pitying monster."

Christine paled visibly. Meg came to Raoul's side, and forced him by the shoulder to move away from Christine. Raoul looked at Meg sharply.

"Do not try to lead me as you would a horse, Mademoiselle. I am no beast."

"Oh, but you are certainly acting like one!" Meg retorted. She was about to say more when Christine murmured, "Meg."

Meg glanced at Christine, and her eyes went wide. Christine was shaking uncontrollably. Meg rushed forward, and pressed her hand against Christine's forehead. She snatched her hand back. Fever. The fear was evident in Meg's voice.

"Vicomte, please, go and fetch the doctor. Go now!" With a look at Christine, a look that showed shame and concern, Raoul ran from the room. Meg sat in her chair be the bed, holding Christine's hand. Christine began to whimper.

"I'm so hot, Meg…so very hot."

"I'm going to go and get a basin of water. I'll be right back, my friend."

Meg darted out of the room. She nearly collided with a very harassed looking doctor, with Raoul tailing.

"Monsieur Vicomte, I was on my way to see Madam Massenet anyway! Please, stop this foolishness!" Raoul seemed to be in his element.

"Doctor, if you do not get your pompous ass into that room and see about Christine, I will make sure that the only patients you will see again will be sewer rats!"

The doctor paled a bit and entered the room. He set his bag on the desk, and began his inspection.

"Vicomte, please wait outside until the inspection is over." Raoul crimsoned slightly, and nodded. Once Raoul was gone, the doctor carefully took off Christine's corset to examine her stomach.

"She is with child…" the doctor murmured to himself. "Looks to be about eight weeks along…but she should be bigger than this."

Meg, who had resumed her position of holding Christine's hand, exchanged a look of panic with Christine. "What do you mean, Monsieur doctor?"

The doctor chuckled. "Please, ladies, it is nothing too serious. Madam Massenet, your body simply is not developing as it should. This could be your young age, or simply because you have not been eating enough. I suspect it is the latter. How long have you been sick, Madam?"

Christine thought for a moment. "I don't remember, Sir. But it does seem ages ago since I have been able to keep down food."

The doctor tutted a moment, then continued his inspection. "Madam, it seems that you have caught a virus. That coupled with your morning sickness has made you rather ill. I will prescribe some medicine that should help you keep some food down. You need to eat, Madam, or your baby will not be healthy. You are the only nourishment it can get. You should stay in bed for at least two weeks. In that time, I will return to check on you, and hopefully you will have rounded out nicely by then. If you need anything, you can always reach me through my office. Take care of yourself, Madam Massenet."

With a comforting smile, the doctor left the room. The door had not been thoroughly shut when Raoul burst through.

"What's wrong! Is everything all right? Is it life threatening? Oh, Christine…" Raoul came forward to Christine and tried to embrace her. She pushed him away.

"Raoul, I have offered you my friendship. I know that is not what you wanted, but that is all I have to give you. I want nothing more. Don't ever criticize Erik again. I love him; he is my husband. I will protect his honor if I have to."

Raoul looked at Christine sadly. "What can I do to prove to you that his love is false? What can I do to show you that he is a monster?"

Christine did not have the strength to answer. Sleep was rapidly coming to her. Christine heard the door open, and Madam Giry walked in. She eyed Raoul in surprise, then turned to Christine.

"My dear, I have a note…"

Raoul groaned. "Oh, God in Heaven, you and your notes! Do you enjoy being the only one in the whole Opera House to know what is going on?"

Madam Giry opened her mouth to retort, but was cut off by Christine.

"I think that is enough, Raoul. I think it's best if you left." Christine eyes burned in anger at the way Raoul had spoken to her, Madam Giry, and Erik.

"I will leave…for now. I will be there, Christine, waiting for you to come to your senses." Raoul turned and swiftly left the room. Christine sighed, releasing the breath that she hadn't realized that she had been holding.

"What's this about a note?"

Madam Giry pulled out the letter. Christine immediately recognized the scrawl as that of Erik's. She turned the letter over, admiring the seal. Erik had changed his seal from that of a skull to that of a rose; his trademark. Christine carefully broke the seal and found another letter within the letter. She read the outside of the envelope.

_Sing for me…_

Christine sighed. She would only sing for him…he knew that all ready. She turned the letter over, to finally reach the inside. There was more writing.

_As I live for you_…

Christine felt the tears start to swell. She loved him so much that she thought her heart would burst from it. Nothing else in this letter could increase her happiness or her sadness. Christine pulled out the contents of the letter. She gasped. She had been wrong. It was a song…a song to their child. It was simply entitled, "Angel Child". Tears glistened in her eyes as she imagined her Erik singing to their child. She looked over the music, and began to sing in her clear, strong soprano.

Madam Giry and Meg watched Christine, feeling as though they were intruding upon a moment that should be kept private. Christine, as always, could somehow feel Erik beside her, guiding her voice, guiding her spirit. She finished, and fell back against the pillows, exhausted. As the darkness of sleep descended upon her, she remembered Erik's words.

_Talk to me in your dreams, as you use to do._

Christine smiled to herself as the dream descended. They could never be truly parted. They always had their dreams…

* * *

**A side note:** I post this chapter against my better judgment; I don't have chapter 9 written yet. But there happens to be a tropical storm that is suppose to strengthen to a hurricane swirling in the Gulf of Mexico, and guess where the point of entry is suppose to be? Any guesses? I'M GONNA DIE! Naw, seriously, I don't know how long my power and stuff will be out this time, so I'm gonna post. It may be a little while for the next one, being as I haven't written it and I have to deal with this storm. If Erik and Christine have a girl, I will most definitely NOT be naming her Arlene. Thanks everyone, and please review! 


	9. A Family Denied

**Demons of the Past**

**Ch. 9: A Family Denied**

**Author's note:** Well, I survived Arlene! Lol. It wasn't really that bad; just rain and wind…not like Ivan…well anyways, I hope that you like this chapter. For those interested, I promise that Christine and Erik will not be separated long…in fact, I'm pretty sure that their reunion will be sometime next chapter; just don't hold me to that if for some reason I'm wrong. They really needed some time apart…sometimes that's the best thing for a relationship. Thanks for reading! And remember, review!

**Warning: READ THIS FIRST!** This chapter includes a death scene. I did not include a lot of description, but if fights and death bother anyone, I will include a giant SKIP so that you can resume reading. Remember, this story is T for Teen and I intend to stick clearly to that rating, so no Mature stuff in here.

**P.S**.: If anyone cares, Calais is a real city in France. I am pretending in my story that it's a humble village, but the name is authentic.

_Disclaimer: I am the biggest PHAN in the world! Therefore, I own POTO! YES!…and now there's a giant mob chasing after me! I am being attacked by others who believe they are the biggest PHAN! And by people who really own POTO! HELP! sobering: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera._

And now, on with the story…

* * *

The moon was a silver orb in the inky black sky. The cloudless night offered perfect visibility for someone who could see in the dark. And lucky for Erik, his night vision was perfect. The night was perfect camouflage. The blackness covered and concealed Erik, who had chosen to wear his traditional black garbs for the long trip he was undertaking. His cloak bellowed behind him in a black cloud; Erik encouraged his stallion to a fast gallop. Erik never traveled during the day. He preferred to travel at night and then sleep when the sun rose to expose him ruthlessly. It helped him in his search for his mother to do it unhindered by various strangers asking questions with their eyes and voices. Erik never stayed in the villages that he searched. He would find a hidden spot to sleep, normally right outside of the village. Erik would only venture in for various supplies and information. Erik chose the seediest spots to venture; less respectable people tended to ask fewer questions when a man dressed all in black and wearing his hood in such a way as to allow only the briefest glimpse of his eyes walked in to do business. So far, it had been roughly two and a half months since he first left Paris…and his beloved behind. _Two months, two weeks, one day, three hours_, Erik counted mentally. He ached with loneliness; Erik had **never** been away from Christine this long. Since the moment he had first saw her, ten years ago, he had always kept a close watch on the small child that had secretly captivated him. Erik smiled atop his horse. _Well, there was that time when I went deep into my lair to finish 'Don Juan'…but even then I would sneak the occasional glance at Christine. She never knew_…Erik hated the separation. He longed to feel her touch against his skin, the touch of her hair, the closeness that they had shared. Erik occasionally dreamed of her; sometimes the dreams felt so real that he imagined that if he awoke he would find Christine beside him.Erik imagined that he could feel her happiness, her anxiousness, her wonderment as her body grew and changed for their child. He was missing it all, and what was worse is that he had nothing to show for their time apart. 

Erik had searched many villages that lay north of Paris. His reasoning was simply: he knew that while traveling with the gypsies, the furthest south they had gone had been to Paris. Erik hoped that he would find the village of his birth; otherwise, he would be searching all of France. Erik sighed heavily. He was fast approaching the northern most part of France in relation to Paris: Calais. This was the last village to search. If Erik did not find his mother here, then his search would end in failure. Failure. The word lefta bitter taste in his mouth. Erik hated to think of returning to Christine only to tell her that he was the same man that had left. He had not discovered anything on his journey that might reveal to him what kind of man he was; to be perfectly honest, Erik did not think that Christine would accept him back unless he had changed. Failure could not be an option. If he failed, then he had failed in his duties as a husband. Erik felt a slow heat rise against his back, and he turned to view the morning sun as it began to rise above the trees. Erik slowed his horse and began looking for a suitable spot to rest during the day. He found a small trench near a large boulder. He stopped his horse, tethering it to a large tree. Erik began his ritual of cleaning and watering his stallion. The horse neighed in relief, and dipped his head to eat the lush grass. Erik released the horse of his burdens. He took a long sip from his canteen full of water. This was his last chance. His mother had to be here…she just had to be. Erik's mind began to play the many possibilities that were with him every moment: What are the odds that she would live in the same place for some thirty odd years? What if she had died? He would never know the truth. And, unfortunately, part of Erik didn't want the truth.

Erik pulled the long blanket out of his pack. The months had turned warmer as summer bore upon him, and he merely put the blanket on the ground to have a softer place to sleep. Erik pulled the cloak over his eyes as the weariness, not sleepiness, descended upon him. His last thoughts as unconsciousness settled in were that of Christine. Erik smiled as the warmth of Christine's love and strength filled him; he was at last able to let go and dream.

* * *

Christine awakened with a strong sense of worry and frustration. Today was a day that she had been dreading for two reasons: one, she had a doctor's appointment scheduled, and the more important two, she would be seeing Raoul again for the first time since their argument. Their last meeting had not ended well, and Christine had been avoiding him as much as possible. Today, however, there was no escaping the dreaded meeting. Christine had to meet with Stefan and Raoul, acting on behalf of Erik. Erik's opera was scheduled for its opening night in nearly three weeks time. Christine hoped and prayed that Erik would return in time for the gala. She desperately wished that he was here now, so that _he_ could deal with having to be around Raoul all day. Christine paused in mid-thought. _Perhaps I should be glad that I'm the one to tolerate his presence_. Christine sighed as she flung the covers off and edged to the side of the bed. It wasn't that she disliked Raoul; in fact, she still considered him a friend. What she hated was the feeling of guilt and discomfort that always followed in a conversation with him. Raoul could not understand her decision to leave him. _I don't think that he ever will_, Christine thought. She hated that she had hurt him so badly, but she knew that she could never have made him happy while she was miserable. A low kick inside her belly brought a smile to her face. She stroked her growing stomach fondly. Christine was happy with the decision that she had made, and she never wanted to look back at the 'what ifs'. Her whole life had been on eggshells, putting other people before her own self. Now, more than ever, was the time for her to be forceful in her decisions. Christine smiled. _Erik would be proud of me…I've developed a backbone._

Christine got out of bed, hoping fleetingly to stay a few moments longer in the warm bed. Christine approached the mirror in her nightgown. She raised the nightgown up a bit to view her stomach. _Four and half months_, she thought, _and only four and half to go_…She got dressed, struggling a little with her outfit. _I think I need a bigger size_…her thoughts turned to her child. Christine did not know the sex of her child, but she wished for a boy. She didn't know why, but she thought that a little boy would be perfect for Erik…he would carry Erik's last name. Even though Erik had chosenhis lastname, it would seem more official if they had a son to start their line. Then again, she would also like a girl. Who wouldn't want the bond that all daughters and mothers seemed to share? Christine had never had that with her own mother, and she would treasure the bond. Christine laughed at herself, remembering what Meg had said when she revealed her thoughts to her: 'Maybe you'll have one of each!'. That was a scary thought…two infants at the same time? And Erik…would he be able to handle it? Christine found the image of Erik holding two screaminginfants hilarious. _Oh well_, she thought, _the doctor hasn't mentioned anything unusual…and I have another appointment with him today_. She grimaced at the thought. She liked the Opera House doctor, but the exams were so…uncomfortable. Christine didn't like feeling so exposed to a man that was not her husband. Meg had been there every time, though, and Christine was grateful for that.

Christine finished her hair and walked out of her room toward Stefan's office. She and Stefan had grown closer in her stay at the Opera Populaire. She had often times found herself bedridden for one reason or another, and Stefan often visited her, bringing books and conversation. Christine truly liked Stefan; he was a caring man, and he had taken great care of her. He also looked over Erik's interests carefully in his absence, and Christine had no doubts that when Erik returned, he would be greatly pleased. Christine reached the door to Stefan's office, and was about to knock when she heard a voice.

"Hello, Christine."

Christine briefly closed her eyes at the sound of Raoul's voice. So _it will begin early_, she thought. She spun around and gave Raoul a small smile.

"Hello, Vicomte. I trust you are well?" At the formal tone in Christine's voice, Raoul inwardly winced. _So, she hasn't forgotten our last meeting. Pity to think that she would…especially since I know she has been avoiding me._

"Christine, please. I'm…sorry about the things that I said. I was just upset at seeing you so upset, and I tried to help in affairs that I had no business meddling in. I don't want this meeting to be uncomfortable for you. I…just have your best interests at heart. I would never purposefully do things to hurt you, Christine."

_Ah, but you do, Raoul. Like this little speech. You're not sorry; you're just saying what you think I want to hear_. Christine wanted to tell him that, but instead, to avoid the conflict, she merely nodded.

"Raoul, we were childhood friends. We are adults now, and we have different lives. I don't want to have to defend myself to you every time we speak. Can't we put the past behind us, and focus on today?" Christine looked at Raoul hopefully. Raoul sighed.

"Of course, Christine. I will not trouble you with things that are unpleasant. And apparently, the issue of your choice in men is the most unpleasant issue of them all! By the way, have you heard from your husband, by chance?"

At Christine's furious look, Raoul knew he had crossed a line. "Raoul, I am so sick of this! I am so close to saying that I want nothing more to do with you! Is that what you want? Why are you acting like this? Why can't you understand?"

Raoul just looked at Christine, and threw his hands in the air. "What am I suppose to understand? That I lost the woman I loved to a murderer? That instead of marrying me you married a monster? I have tried, Christine, to just be your friend, but I just can't stand here and watch you be hurt! He left you, Christine! You are standing here without him. What if he doesn't want to come back, my dear? What if this is just a clever way of ridding himself of you?"

Christine had turned bright red. Her eyes were deadly as they met Raoul's. "Do you think me some kind of fool that can't take care of herself? Do you think that unless you protect me that I'll go somewhere and die? I am not a child, Raoul. I am a woman; a _married_ woman. I love Erik more than anything; and for you to stand here and think that I will allow you to soil his name in front of me is beyond outrageous!"

Christine took several deep breaths to calm herself. She was flushed, and she felt very hot. _I have to calm down...I can't let things end this way. This is all my fault._ Christine looked at Raoul and grabbed his hand suddenly. "I thank you for caring so much for me, Raoul, I really do. But if you can't give me the respect and courtesy that I give you, then maybe we shouldn't see each other again. I'm tired of fighting, and I'm tired of dreading meeting you alone. Things can never go back to the way they were before, Raoul. Please, as a last request to me, honor me enough to let me go."

Raoul stood still and straight. He didn't meet her eyes. Christine shook her head sadly, and dropped Raoul's hand. She turned to open the door.

"I guess that's my answer."

Raoul watched her sag her shoulders and start to enter the room. _I can't believe this! I'm acting like an idiot, and I'm just going to let her walk out of my life. Maybe it's for the best_…_Wait!_ _I can't let that happen!_ Raoul unconsciously reached out and grabbed Christine's arm.

"Wait, Christine."

Raoul was in turmoil. If he didn't accept Christine, then he would lose her forever; and his horrible rival would have one more victory against him. Raoul hated the Phantom more than anything in the world, but he would not let that hatred interfere with the love he had for Christine. Raoul hated that he had made Christine feel uncomfortable in his presence.

Christine turned again. Raoul met her eyes this time. She saw acceptance in them.

"I have been a fool; a jealous, lovesick fool. I care for you, Christine, more than you could possible know. But I don't want to lose you. I truly am sorry; I will cause you know more pain, I swear it."

Christine could hear the authenticity of his apology. She smiled a genuine smile.

"Apology accepted, Raoul. I hope that you will accept mine as well."

Raoul inclined his head in agreement. He would drop the argument. _For now_, Raoul thought, as he followed Christine into the meeting.

* * *

The sound of dripping water awakened Erik from his fitful sleep. He glanced up, and realized that it was pouring rain on top of him. It was still late afternoon; the sun had not yet sunk into the Earth. _Well, I wonder what I have learned about myself_, Erik thought sardonically, _let's see, I hate the rain, I hate sleeping outside, I hate riding all the time_…Erik stopped his mental list, knowing that it could go on for a while. He was soaking wet, and his horse was standing nearby, neighing mournfully. 

"Sorry, pal. I'm wet too." The horse looked toward Erik at the sound of his voice, and inched a bit closer. "I don't have any carrots. I'll try to get some in town today."

Erik was amused. _I talk to a horse…at least I don't talk to myself_. Erik gathered his things together and loaded them once again on his stallion. He began the annoying trip toward the village. By the time Erik reached Calais, he was muddy, wet, and in an extremely bad mood. Erik stopped his horse just before entering the town. Darkness had fallen, and the rain clouds hid the moon. _This is a perfect cover of darkness_, Erik thought, as he steered his stallion into the town. He picked a rather unpleasant looking dive. "The Ladies' Eye" was painted in bright letters on the front, and had a picture of one eye looking through long eyelashes. Erik snorted out loud at the ridiculous image, and went in.

* * *

Gus had been the owner/bartender of "The Ladies' Eye" since his father had died and left him with the place. "The Ladies' Eye" was a bar, a store, and an inn for the weary traveler. Gus saw all kinds enter and leave through his doors, but none quite like the gentleman who walked in. The stranger looked to be fairly young, and he carried himself with confidence and power. He wore all black, and a cloak that covered most of his body. A hood was pulled close to his head, and all that could be seen of the face was a pair of piercing blue-green eyes. Those eyes…Gus shook off the strange feeling, and addressed the stranger as he approached his counter. 

"How can I help you, gent?"

"I need some basic supplies. I also need information." The stranger spoke in a soft, hypnotic voice. He spoke quickly, and left no room for chit chat.

"Well, I'll see what I can come up with. Do you have a list?" The stranger pulled out a list from his pocket. The hood didn't move from his face. The bartender took the list and started filling the stranger's order. Once he was finished, the stranger paid him three times the amount for the goods. Gus, being an honest man, spoke up.

"Sir, this is entirely too much for just these goods. Please-" Gus was cut off as the man raised his hand to interrupt.

"I asked for information as well. I am looking for someone. How well do you know the locals?"

Gus laughed. "Sir I have lived in Calais all my life, and I turn sixty-four next week. I can probably help you."

The stranger shrugged and looked at Gus intently with his bright blue-green eyes. "I am looking for a woman; possible in her mid to late fifties. Black hair, medium height. Her first name is Anita."

Gus looked at the stranger sharply. What business did he have with Anita? Gus was tempted to tell the man that he didn't know anyone by that name, when the man leaned forward suddenly.

"Please, Monsieur, I have searched for this woman for many days and nights…please, tell me if you know her."

Gus considered him a moment. The slight pleading in his voice seemed contradicting in his manner of dress and stance. Gus hesitated one more moment, then gave in to the man with the strange eyes and voice. There was something familiar about those eyes…

"She lives right outside of the village, near a small lake."

The stranger exhaled slightly. "Does she have family?"

"Yeah…she was married for a time and had a daughter. Her husband was killed in a hunting accident, and she remarried a few years later. Had a son…I haven't seen her in a while, Monsieur…but her daughter comes here frequently."

The stranger seemed a bit shaken. "Sir, would you like to sit down? You don't look so good…"

The stranger just shook his head. "Thank you, bar keep, you have been more help to me than I can say."

With that, the man fled the room. Gus stared a moment at his departure, then settled back to washing his glasses. Within a few minutes, Gus had forgotten about the strange man. But he would never forget the eyes…

* * *

Erik left "The Ladies' Eye" breathlessly. He had the information now. All he had to do was find his mother, get his answers…and he could return to Paris. His mind reeled. _She had had more children! I have a family; siblings…_Erik pushed this from his mind. That information was irrelevant. All he wanted to do was return to Christine. His head was in his thoughts as he walked, which probably accounted for him running into a small body. Erik raised his head in alarm. A child! A small child was sprawled on the ground in front of him. Without thinking, Erik reached down and helped the small boy from the ground. 

"Are you all right?" Erik asked as he tried to see if he had hurt the boy. The boy looked at him with wide, doleful eyes. _Like Christine's_, Erik thought, a wave of homesickness washing over him. The little boy started to cry. Erik was standing in the middle of a village, trying valiantly not to draw attention to himself, and the boy was bawling! Erik did the only thing he could do. He kneeled before the child, and tried to sooth his tears.

"Shhh, now, little one, what's the matter? Are you hurt? Where is your mother, little one?" The little boy stopped crying.

"I'm not here with my mommy. I'm here with my sister."

Erik smiled a little, not lowering his hood. The last thing he needed was for the boy to see his mask and start crying again.

"All right, then, little one, where is your sister?"

The little boy started to sob a bit. "She…she…she told me to run!"

Erik's eyes narrowed. "Why, little one? Where is she?"

The child pointed to an alley way. Erik could just make out shadows advancing on a smaller shadow…Erik growled, low in his throat. He started forward when he stopped.

_Why are you going to help her? Why should you show her compassion? If she saw your face, she would run and hide, like everyone else_…Erik shook his head. No, this was the right thing to do. He had it in his power to help the girl. He would do so. Erik turned to the boy.

"Stay here, little one. I'll be back."

Erik started forward until he saw a tall girl standing against the wall, trying to struggle against two men. Erik cleared his throat, to announce his presence. The two men stopped and turned to face him. One of the men, an ugly git with a large gut, spoke up.

"Friend, this is none of your concern. You would do well to mind your own business."

Erik smiled. "I am no friend of yours. And I have no desire to meddle in your business. Simply leave the girl alone, and you will survive this encounter."

The two men laughed. The girl was trying to inch away when one of the men grabbed her.

"See, friend, there are two of us, and one of you. And since you seem to have an interest in the girl as well, I'll tell you what: you wait 'til we're done, and you can have her. Free of charge." The man who spoke was the taller of the two, skinny and well defined. Erik immediately saw the knife at his side. _Oh, well, he will have to be the first to die_, Erik thought. The girl struggled against Skinny and yelled out.

"I am no whore! Leave me be!" She kicked at Skinny, but he held her tight. "Hey, now, pretty one, I paid good money for this pleasure. You take what's coming to you."

"I warn you for the last time: leave the girl, or face death!"

Erik stepped forward. This time, he lowered his hood for the first time since entering the village. Both men openly gaped at his white mask that gleamed in the night.

"What the Hell? Are you some kinda freak? Well, let's see what you look like under the mask, demon!" Fatty spoke this time. He was sweating heavily, and he spoke with more confidence than he felt. He was therefore severely shaken when Erik started to laugh.

"That was your last warning. If you are so willing to face death, then I will grant your wish. Look upon this face, gentleman. For I am the Angel of Death, and I come for you!"

**SKIP (If you do not want to read the fight/death scene, SKIP!)**

**

* * *

**

SKIP

Erik lunged forward as Skinny approached him, knife drawn and ready. Erik grabbed Skinny's hand with the knife and twisted hard, causing Skinny to drop the knife into Erik's waiting hand. Skinny howled in pain, and Erik grabbed him by the throat. Erik held the knife he had taken from Skinny, and promptly stabbed him in the chest. Skinny may little noise as he dropped limply to the ground. Fatty had been trying to hold onto the girl during Erik's fight with Skinny. Fatty's eyes went wide at the body of his accomplice, but he charged Erik anyway, hoping to overpower him with his sheer bulk. Erik flipped Fatty on his back hard on the ground, and reached for his neck with his bare hands.

"I warned you. See you in Hell!" Erik twisted Fatty's neck, and with a loud snap death was handed.

* * *

**RESUME**

For those of you who didn't read the above text (even though it wasn't bad, I swear.), Erik just killed the two potential thieves/rapists to save the young girl's life. He is a hero, and did not kill them for spite. He did warn them, after all…several times.

* * *

The girl was crouched against the wall, her hands covering her eyes. Erik looked first at Skinny, to make sure that he was dead. Satisfied, he approached the girl. 

"Are you all right?" Erik spoke softly and soothingly. The girl looked up, frightened to her core. "I'm not going to hurt you. Please, I just want to help." The girl looked at the hand that Erik offered, then slowly allowed him to help her from the ground.

"Who were those men?" The girl shook her head.

"I don't know…I have never seen them before." Erik eyed the girl.

"What are you doing here in the village this time of night? And why is your younger brother with you?"

The girl's eyes went wide. "God, Brian! Is he all right? Where is he? I told him to run…what if something happened to him!"

Erik held his hand up. "I just left a small boy a little ways from here. He is fine; he is waiting for you. If it wasn't for him, I would not have known about your peril."

The girl sighed in relief. Erik's eyes narrowed a bit. "You still haven't answered my question. Why would a young woman be in this part of the village at night?"

The girl shrugged. "It's the only time when I can come and get my mother's medicine. My mother won't come into the village; hasn't for years. Lucky for her, I know the herbalist; she stays open for me." Erik guided her out of the alley and toward her brother.

"Lizzy!" The little boy threw himself on his sister. She caught him easily, and laughed a little.

"My little bee! Everything's all right now…" The girl looked back at Erik, who was standing a bit away. He was replacing his hood. The girl approached him.

"We have to do something about the bodies. We can't leave them to be discovered. Also, I know this may seem a little off point, but my mother's medication is still in the alley way. She has to have that medicine." The girl spoke low and only to Erik, and Erik had a difficult time containing his shock.

"I know that. I'll take care of it. There is a river nearby, no?" The girl nodded. "Go to "The Ladies' Eye". I will meet you there with your bags of medicine."

* * *

Erik moaned and groaned as he carefully rid himself of the corpses. He dumped the remains in the indicated river. It had a pretty fast current, and luckily the bodies would be far down river before they were discovered. Erik bent low over the water and rubbed his hands furiously, trying to get the blood off his hands. This couldn't have been what Christine had meant by 'finding himself'. All he had ended up doing was killing again! _But it was different this time_, Erik told himself. _They attack me first. And the girl…they were going to hurt a defenseless girl._ Erik felt a rush flood him; it was a similar euphoria that he had had when he had killed his gypsy captor Faza. The girl was alive because of him…he had killed not for sport, or anger, but for necessity…Erik found quickly that he preferred this feeling over the soiled feeling he normally got when he killed. Maybe he was finding himself after all… 

Erik entered "The Ladies' Eye" a short time later. He looked around for a time, and spotted the children. The girl looked up and gestured Erik to join them. Erik came forward and offered the girl the bag of medicine. The girl accepted, questions swirling in her eyes. Erik merely inclined his head, and made to leave when the girl snaked her hand to his arm.

"Please, Sir, a moment more. I haven't thanked you properly."

Erik turned and looked at the girl for the first time. She had her hair tied back in a tight fitting bun, but the hair was as black as a raven. She had…familiar eyes. Erik sighed, and sat down at the table where the girl and her brother were sitting.

"My name is Elisabeth, Sir. Thank you for saving my life…I don't know how to explain the situation I was in, but I want you to know that you saved me from a fate worse than death, in my opinion. This is my younger brother, Brian. Well, half-brother, really, but he's all I got…I don't know how to repay you, Sir…if you know of anything, please, let me know."

Erik sat a moment and let the pieces fall into place. Older girl, sixteen or seventeen…younger boy, five or six…half-siblings…mother is ill, doesn't come into the village…Erik was looking at his younger half-siblings. He took a moment to process the information as the knowledge flooded his veins. Elisabeth's eyes…they were the same color as his own! A piercing blue-green…that must be his mother's eye color too. Erik had never noticed before. His family…he had found his family! _No_, Erik thought bitterly, _I found the family I have been denied_! Erik shook his head.

"Forgive me. My name is Erik, and I think I know a way that you can help me. I am looking for a woman named Anita. Do you know someone by that name, Elisabeth? I am a stranger to Calais, and I have searched for a long time…"

Elisabeth hesitated, but her younger brother answered for her. "Anita's our mother's name!" Brian said proudly. Erik smiled.

"Thank you, little one." Erik glanced at Elisabeth, whose face was full of horror. Erik tried to reassure her.

"I know your mother from my past, Elisabeth. I merely want to talk to her. I have no other intentions." Elisabeth looked at Brian.

"Brain, why don't you go and see if Gus has some of those special sugar treats that you like." Brian scampered away, grinning happily. Elisabeth leaned forward.

"Monsieur Erik, I just watched you kill two men. I know that you were trying to help me, but consider my position. What kind of man are you?"

Erik smiled. "I understand your concern. I acted…harshly, I know, but those men were about to rape you. I warned them, and still they advanced upon me with the intention to do us both harm. Surely you didn't want the option you would have been left with had I not interceded?" When Elisabeth shook her head, Erik continued. He felt he owed her some explanation, some evidence of his good intentions. _What better explanation than Christine?_ "I am a married man from Paris. My wife is with child, and I wish to return to her as soon as possible. But I cannot return until I see your mother. Please, take me to her. I will escort you home. No one will trouble you."

Elisabeth sat back in her seat. She glanced up at Erik, his face still hidden beneath his hood. "Why do you wear a mask?"

Erik grimaced. He had not expected that question so soon. It was asked in a very abrupt way. The girl was a fireball of emotions; it was hard to pick and choose what claimed her face at any given moment. "That is a personal question, my dear. One I do not answer freely. Considering I just saved your life, perhaps you will find it in your heart to trust me? For now, at least?"

Elisabeth sighed, then nodded. "I apologize for the personal question. I am just curious. A mask on an otherwise handsome face is a rather odd thing…" At Erik's cough of displeasure, she hurriedly continued. "I will take you to my mother, but I must warn you; she is…dying. Slowly, but surely. Whatever business you have with her, I hope it's brief. She doesn't have much time left."

Erik rose from the table, a fire burning in his eyes. No, his business would not take long, not at all…

* * *

Elisabeth Peters walked calmly in the lead of the small group, guiding her brother and her rescuer through the woods to her home. Elisabeth hated the idea of feeling indebted to someone, but that's how she felt with this Erik fellow. He was so secretive; he wanted to talk very little on the way out of the village. Elisabeth, in all her sixteen years, had never met a man quite like Erik. Brian clung to her hand dutifully. At six years old, he was much too big to carry. He still seemed a bit traumatized from the events of early in the night, and he held tight to his sister in fear that she would leave him again. Elisabeth spoke quietly to him, reassuring him of their safety. Erik had even tried calmly the boy; he had let Brian stroke his stallion's mane. Brian had liked being allowed to pet the horse, especially since he had never even been near a horse before. Erik even offered to let the boy ride, but Brian would not give up his hold on Elisabeth. Elisabeth turned to see Erik following closely, leading his horse. She hung back a bit and began to walk beside Erik. 

"How long has it been since you left Paris, Erik?" Elisabeth studied him as she spoke. He still wore his hood, and he had said very little about himself. There was silence for a long moment, and finally, a response:

"Two and half months. It is the longest I have been away from my home in several years."

"Do you miss your wife?"

Another long pause, and a sigh. "Yes." The simple word was understated, but the emotion behind it was hard for even Erik to hide.

Elisabeth thought a moment. She had never been to Paris, and wished often that she would find herself there one day. But with her mother dying, and her stepfather's horrible plans for her…she couldn't think on it. All she cared about was what would happen to her little brother. The thought of him in an orphanage was too much to accept…when had her life become so hard?

Her true father had loved her dearly, and her mother had always doted upon her. But when her father died, Elisabeth's mother had slipped into a deep depression. Eventually, she pulled herself out of it, but not before Elisabeth had felt the tear in her soul of losing _both _parents. When Elisabeth was ten years old, her mother remarried to a horrible, horrible man…Elisabeth remembered the first time she had seen him beating her mother…and she remembered the beating that she had received in return for her curious nature. So far, all his attacks had been physical, but Elisabeth knew what he planned to do with her once her mother died…she had seen the proof tonight with those two men. Her stepfather cared nothing for his son. He would sooner throw Brian out on the streets than feed him. Oh, what was she going to do! She couldn't run away; her mother was too sick and would die without treatment…and where would she go anyway?

And this man…there was something strange about Erik…something almost familiar. Perhaps it had something to do with his need to see her mother. Elisabeth didn't know much about Erik, but she did know that he had shown no mercy to her would-be rapists; they were warned, they ignored it, and now they were dead. Elisabeth wasn't upset about the deaths; she handled it with the calm logic she had used all her life. They had to die, so she could live…and without her strange rescuer, she would have been…Elisabeth shuddered. Erik was a frightening man, but she oddly felt safe with him. And why, oh why, did he wear that mask? It made no sense; the features that Elisabeth could see were very handsome. She doubted that Erik would hang around for her to get to know him better. Erik had made it clear that after meeting with Elisabeth's mother he was leaving for Paris. He had a life there, and Elisabeth had a life here, no matter how dismal.

Elisabeth realized with shock that they had arrived at her home.

"This is it," Elisabeth said. She glanced at Erik. His blue-green eyes were not shining from the hood…his eyes were closed. He nodded.

"It is indeed, Elisabeth. It is indeed."

_What an odd thing to say_, Elisabeth thought as she walked toward the house. Her mother stood in the doorway, clutching the side of the wall.

"Elisabeth! It has been a long time! I thought something horrible had happened to you! Hurry, Nathan is not back yet, he doesn't know that you were gone. What's wr-" Elisabeth looked up at her mother when she didn't finish her sentence. She was staring at something behind Elisabeth's back. She turned, and found Erik had dropped his hood, revealing his white mask that covered half of his face. Elisabeth glanced at her mother. She had come forward, tottering slightly as her footsteps led her out of the house for the first time in years.Her motherstopped suddenly as Erik spoke. His voice grated Elisabeth's ears; it was full of anger, and hatred…and _sadness_?

"Glad that you recognize me. It has been a long time, indeed. Are you happy to see me, Mother?"

Elisabeth looked at her mother in shock and disbelief. She yelped in fright as her mother fainted dead to the ground.


	10. A Life Changing Decision

**Demons of the Past**

**Ch. 10 A Life-Changing Decision**

**Author's note:** I just wanted to thank all of my reviewers! You guys are awesome! I promise on my love for Erik that Christine and Erik will meet again in the next chapter! I hope that you like this one…it was hard to write, for some reason. Anyways, enjoy!

_Disclaimer: I wish I owned the Phantom of the Opera…then I would hide it away and keep for myself! BWAWAWA! (P.S. J/K)_

**Previously: **

**Erik's voice grated Elisabeth's ears; it was full of anger, and hatred…and _sadness_?**

**"Glad that you recognize me. It has been a long time, indeed. Are you happy to see me, Mother?"**

**Elisabeth looked at her mother in shock and disbelief. She yelped in fright as her mother fainted dead to the ground.**

And now, on with the story…

* * *

Erik watched with dead eyes as his mother fell lifelessly to the ground. He felt nothing…nothing but the dull pain in his heart. The world seemed in slow motion. Why was Erikthe only one that could see the colors in the black and white void around him? He was vaguely aware of the young boy screaming; the sound was far off in the distance. Elisabeth was motionless, still standing slightly in front of him. Elisabeth finally turned and looked at Erik incredulously.

"Mother...did you just call her 'mother'? What kind of deceit is this?" Erik ignored her, turning his attention to the woman on the ground. His body moved of its own accord, his fingers brushing his mother's neck slightly, checking fora pulse. It still beat soundly, and Erik turned his attention to Elisabeth.

"Unfortunately, I do not speak falsehood, though I have no intentions of discussing things with you. Anita seems fine. Does she have fainting spells often?"

Elisabeth came to bend down beside her mother. "Only every time she doesn't get her way, or we displease her…which is all the time." Erik could hear the pain in her voice, and he glanced at her questioningly. "Now is not the time for a discussion of me, Erik. Now is the perfect time for a discussion about you! I want answers, and I want them now! Who the Hell are you!"

Erik sighed. "I will spare you the details, Elisabeth. They are not important. My…disagreement is with Anita, not her family. I hold no ill will against you or your brother…"

Elisabeth grabbed Erik by the arm firmly. "Answer my damn question! Who are you?"

Erik pulled his arm from Elisabeth's strong grip. "The answer does not matter for you, Elisabeth. Leave me be, and when I leave you can forget about me. Do as I say!"

Erik's voice rose high inside Elisabeth's head…she almost wanted to agree…but she shook her head.How could Erik understand? She didn't want to forget about him, not at all."No…please…"

Erik heard the pleading in her voice, and was shocked to see tears forming in her eyes. "Why are you crying?"

Elisabeth frowned, angry with herself for showing such weakness. "Nothing. We need to get my mother into the house. Nathan cannot find her here."

"Nathan?"

"My stepfather. A bastard of a man that ever lived. He would sooner kill first and ask questions later, so you must not be found here. And my mother must be back in the house."

Erik shook his head firmly. "I will not touch her!"

"Erik…"

"No! I refuse to touch the spiteful demon that ruined my life! She can rot there for all I care!" Erik turned from Elisabeth sharply. He started to walk away, when a voice interrupted his steps.

"Going so soon, _son_?"

Erik whirled around sharply as Anita rose unassisted from the ground.

* * *

Erik found himself in Anita's small bedroom. The interior of the house was exactly as he remembered as a child, but he felt no comfort with the familiarity. Instead, he felt a deep seated uneasiness and despair. Erik was finally here, confronting the demons of his past, and he had no idea what to say. He stood mutely in the corner as Anita closed the door behind her. There was an audible click as the lock fell into place. Anita regarded her eldest son coldly. 

"What do you want from me? An apology, perhaps? Or perhaps you've made yourself believe that it was all a mistake, that I did not know what type of life I was condemning you to…well, don't kid yourself, boy, I knew exactly what I was doing."

"Why? Why did you put me through such Hell? I was your son…" Erik's voice was low, and as he spoke the words seemed almost to catch in his throat. He felt the angry and rage rise in him like a hissing snake, and he yelled out: "I AM your son!" Erik felt the confidence return to him. He would not let his mother get the best of him. Erik was her better, not her equal.

Anita seemed to diminish under her son's rage. The bravado and the fake façade of confidence fell away to reveal the true, sniveling woman standing before her towering son. Erik came towards his mother, causing her to fall across the bed.

"I have waited for the moment when I could see your face…I planned the moment in my mind where I would be able to deal out the pain I have had to endure, all these years…I wish nothing more than to snap your little neck right now; but I'm afraid that would be too quick of a justice for someone like you." Erik reached out with a gloved hand and touched his mother's cheek. She flinched, and did not meet his eyes. The touch harden, and Erik grasped Anita firmly by her chin. "You can't even stand to look at me, can you? This boy…who has grown into a man…I have killed, Mother. I am not a stranger to the feeling of blood on my hands. I could end it all for you…give me a reason not to, Mother, and I will spare your life…"

Anita tried to escape from her son's cruel grasp, but she found that he was too strong. She did the only thing she could…she raised her free hand and removed her son's mask. The reaction was instantaneous; he recoiled from her, hastily covering his face in his hands. Erik moved away and turned his back on his mother. Anita, sensing her chance at his weakness, spoke:

"Ah, it seems I have found the method to control you, beast. You are not strong enough to kill me…I am your mother, after all. You can't even accept your monstrous appearance yourself; how can you blame me for what I did? I have deep pity for you. I was able to rid myself of you, but you will never be able to rid yourself of the deformity that mars your face."

Silence followed; a deep, harsh silence that was filled only with the occasional sharp breath from Erik. He was facing the window, staring out into the darkness that was his only refuge. The words of his mother flowed through his veins, until he finally understood. He hated himself…not the world, not his situation, not even God who had made him so…he loathed himself more than he loathed his mother. The knowledge filled him, but it was neither harsh nor terrible. Erik closed his eyes. He had found what type of man he was…he was a man in denial about his whole existence; and it had taken his wicked mother to point that out to him. He smiled as he turned to face his mother, who winced in horror at his appearance.

"You are right, Mother. I hate myself, more so than I hate you. But I do not deserve hatred anymore. I will not be ashamed anymore! You will face me, Mother, and you will understand!" Erik came forward swiftly and grabbed Anita by her arms. She screamed and pleaded, begged and sobbed. Erik did not release her.

"Look at me, Mother…You called me the 'sin of your flesh' didn't you? I was innocent…I was INNOCENT! You took that from me! You took my innocence...You don't deserve to live…"

Erik dropped his mother unmercifully to the floor. She lay there, crying loudly. Erik glanced at her in disgust. "But you are too pitiful to kill. I want you to live the rest of your days in the knowledge that I came here…and I saw you…and I have demeaned you unworthy to be called my mother. You are a pitiful wrench. I have lived my life hating you…but I do so no longer. I am a man…not a monster."

Anita stopped crying. She reached up for her son. "Please…I'm so sorry…I'll do anything you ask…my husband, Nathan, he has plans for the girl…horrible plans. I know I have not been a mother to any of my children…but please…don't leave me in this Hell! End it for me, Erik...if I had the courage I would do it myself. The guilt...the pain...it is too much for me. Please, kill me now; snap my neck for a painless death...

Erik smiled. "No. You have given me reason to spare your life.I intend to leave you here, Anita. I will abandon you as you abandoned me. You will not suffer as much as I have...this is surely true. It matters not to me; you will never know the scope of the pain I have endured because of you. Suffer in silence, Anita, for I will know…suffer for me…feel the burns of a thousand needles of pain. For I have endured that, and much more. Goodbye, Anita. We will not meet again."

* * *

Elisabeth pulled her ear away from the door. She had heard enough…enough for a lifetime. Elisabeth knew her mother was a cold and cruel woman, but she had no idea that she was capable of such a horrendous deed. _Her own son…how could she do that to her own son!_ Elisabeth thought back on her own years with her mother. _Perhaps escaping, no matter how terrible the consequences, was better for Erikthan staying here trapped._ Elisabeth had felt like a slave within her own house ever since her father had passed on. She cooked, cleaned, cared for Brian, and did anything else that popped into her mother's or Nathan's head. She longed to be free of her horrible surroundings, but she could not leave her youngest brother alone…and while she was sure that she had not earned her mother's love, Elisabeth still felt responsible for her well-being. If Elisabeth left, her mother would die…Elisabeth cared for her mother, no matter what she was subjugated to. But the time was approaching to make a decision...Elisabeth felt sure that the air around her was thick with motivation and anticipation. She moved from the door to lean against the wall, still sitting on the floor. Elisabeth crossed her arms over her knees and hugged them tightly. This could be her chance…she could leave…but how could she ask this of a stranger? How could she ask Erik to take her and her brother away from this place, after what their own mother had done to him? Elisabeth closed her eyes and prayed. _I know that there have been times when I have cursed you, God…but now it seems that you have sent me a way to escape…please, have Erik show me compassion…have him understand my plight…_

Elisabeth looked up sharply as the door to her mother's bedroom flung open forcibly. Erik stood before her, dark and powerful. He looked at Elisabeth in surprise, and then offered her his hand.

"You really shouldn't have listened to that, my dear. It must have been rather unpleasant."

Elisabeth raised her eyebrows at the extreme understatement. "I had to know…and I didn't think that you or my mother would be willing to tell me." Erik did not seem angry that Elisabeth had eavesdropped; on the contrary, he seemed almost sad. Erik turned away, heading for the door of the house. He stopped, and glanced back at Elisabeth.

"Elisabeth, what you will find in this life is what you make of it. You have to accept your life and make the best of it. Don't live in darkness and hatred, as I have…"

Elisabeth ran forward to Erik, touching him lightly on the arm despite her desperate need to attach herself to him. "What about changing your life when you have the chance? What about not accepting what you have and striving for something better? You are my only chance, Erik…I don't pretend that this isn't some trick of fate. Take me with you to Paris…take me and Brian…let us escape this Hell and begin a new life, as you have."

Shock and disbelief stunned Erik. He looked down at the fire in Elisabeth's eyes, and he pulled his arm away gently. "My dear, a life in Paris might be just as hard as a life here. You don't know what it is you truly ask. I barely belong in Paris…it is a cold, unforgiving place."

"I don't care! Anything is better than being here; being a slave in your own home, being beaten regularly for things that you have no control over…worrying that one day you will wake and find your younger brother gone. If you don't take me, then take Brian! He is still young…he wouldn't be a burden…you could raise him as a son…" Erik shook his head lightly.

"My reasons for refusal are not because I think you would be a burden…you trade one hard life for another. You don't know me, Elisabeth…I could be ten times worse than your stepfather."

"You saved my life; you risked your own to help a stranger…I see the good in you, I see it in your eyes…I don't care about the past. I see a future, and I see it happening because of you. Please, don't leave us here!" Elisabeth's voice was thick with despair. Erik's mind was in turmoil; he had never before been asked to save a life, let alone save two lives! His own blood…it was in his power to help his family. Family…what an alien concept. For as long as Erik could remember, he had been on his own, depending on only himself to survive. When he had met Christine, he had felt a connection forged not from blood, but from the soul…and now he felt a connection to Elisabeth, but he knew it was from the shared blood flowing through their veins. He couldn't turn away and leave, knowing what fate he condemned them to. Erik was not his mother; he could not simply leave and allow fate to do the damage. Finally, slicing the silence with his low voice, he spoke:

"Go now, and gathered some of your things…you must travel light. Is there a horse in your stable that we could take?" At Elisabeth's nod, Erik continued. "Meet me in the stable…you have five minutes. Get your brother, and we leave as soon as we can. Say nothing to your mother!"

Elisabeth scrambled to obey. Eric left the house in silence, heading for the small stable near the lake. _What am I doing! How can I take care of two young ones? And what is Christine going to say, when we have one of our own on the way?_ **She will be fine with this,** a voice said inside, **she will understand your need…She will accept this, and she will love them as her own**…Erik smiled a bit. Elisabeth and Christine were similar in age…and Christine will technically be a sister to her. Christine could be a mother to Brian…and a friend to Elisabeth. _This could work…and they would have a better life than they do here._

Erik started at once saddling a chestnut mare. The night was almost over…and time was of the essence.

* * *

Christine grimaced as Meg entered her small bedroom. Meg laughed at Christine's expression. 

"Who did you think I was, the doctor? He won't be here for another half hour, Christine. Stop being so nervous!"

"Well, how would you feel! I don't like his visits at all. They are so degrading!" Christine stood beside her dresser, ringing her hands. She started pacing across the floor.

"What's wrong? Why are you so anxious?" Meg had seen Christine act out during each doctor's visit, but this was an extreme. Meg looked at Christine in concern. "Do you think something's wrong with the baby?"

Christine's eyes focused on something above Meg's head. "I don't know…but I have a feeling that something is just not right. I don't know if it's anything serious or not…"

"Well, it's no use worrying about it now. The doctor will be in and tell you that your fears are without grounds. Now, while we wait, I _have_ to tell you about this guy that I met…he is so cute!"

The next half-hour flew by as Christine and Meg gossiped and laughed. Too soon, there was a knock on the door. Christine glanced at Meg in trepidation, and Meg squeezed her hand.

"It's all right, Christine…it's just the doctor." Christine settled herself in her bed as Meg opened the door. The doctor walked in with a broad smile on his face. He glanced at Christine and sighed.

"Madam, why do you worry so about our meetings? I'm just checking to make sure that you and your baby remain healthy…you would think that you would welcome me!"

Christine smiled at the reassuring tone in the Opera House doctor's voice. "I thank you, doctor, but I can't change how I feel. Let's just get this over with."

Christine closed her eyes as the doctor started his examination. He spoke to himself, muttering things that only he could hear. Finally, the doctor lifted his eyes to Christine's face.

"Everything looks all right down here, Madam. I'm just going to check the baby's heartbeat, and then we're done for the day…stay still, my dear, so I can concentrate…"

The doctor lifted his stethoscope to his ears and touched Christine's stomach with the cold tip. Christine gave a gasp, and the doctor pulled away, grinning sheepishly.

"Sorry, Madam, I'll try to warm it for you…" The doctor blew warm air onto the tip of the cold metal, and tried again. He listened for a long moment; then he changed positions and listened more. Meg watched carefully with a bit of perplexity. Normally, the doctor didn't take this long for this part of the examination…it was a bit of a tradition to end the uncomfortable examination on the joyous note of hearing the baby's heartbeat. Meg exchanged a look with Christine.

"Doctor, is there something wrong?" Meg asked on behalf of Christine. The doctor frowned slightly.

"I'm just making sure…Mademoiselle Giry, come here a moment, if you please. I need a second opinion."

Meg complied, unsure of the doctor's intentions. He handed her his stethoscope, and instructed her to listen. She did, hearing the marvelous sensation of the baby within Christine…she had done this many times; she wasn't sure why this time was special. Then, quite suddenly, she heard what the doctor was talking about. Meg wasn't hearing one heartbeat within Christine…she was hearing _two_! The emotion of the moment choked Meg, and she felt the tears falling from her face. Unfortunately, Christine misinterpreted Meg's tears, and soon became hysterical.

"What's going on! I knew there was something wrong! Is my baby…is he…dead!"

Meg came to Christine's side in an instance. Christine threw herself upon her friend, crying furiously. Meg held her, then pulled her away and shook her hard.

"Christine, listen to me! Your baby's fine…but Christine, you should be happy. My dear, you're carrying twins!" Christine froze, unsure of the reality of Meg's words.

"Twins…TWINS! I can't believe it…Oh my God…"

The doctor finished putting his things back in his bag, and turned to regard Christine. "Believe me, Madam Massenet, you are carrying twins. But multiples can cause problems in a pregnancy…you are well passed the first trimester, so I fear no miscarriage at this point…but you must be careful! Any discomfort, any pain, should be reported to me immediately. My dear, you are young…and this being your first pregnancy, we must be careful…very careful. Stay healthy, Madam, and continue the limited walking and such. Do nothing strenuous…and you should be fine. Until next visit then, Madam…"

The doctor bowed slightly and left the room. Madam Giry immediately came in.

"Christine, what in Heaven's name is the matter! I heard you shrieking from across the hall! Is something wrong?"

Madam Giry took in Christine's tear streaked face and her own daughter's broad smile. Christine laughed; a joyous laugh that penetrated Madam Giry's soul…

"I am carrying Erik's _children_, Madam, not just a child…and I can't wait for the look on Erik's face when I tell him!"

* * *

Dawn was beginning to steal the night away when Erik decided to stop and rest. His small group had traveled at a furious pace, trying to put as much distance as possible between them and Calais. Erik found a safe spot, well away from the road. He jumped from his horse and moved towards Elisabeth's mount. She was swaying slightly in the saddle from exhaustion, but she had not complained at all. In her arms was Brian, who was sound asleep. Erik took the young boy from Elisabeth, and helped her down from the horse. 

"My dear, go to my pack…there is a blanket inside. Spread it on the ground, and we'll put young Brian to bed somewhat properly." Elisabeth did as she was told, and soon Brian was settled nicely on the soft material of the blanket. Erik took off his concealing cloak and handed it to Elisabeth.

"Sleep on this, Elisabeth…I daresay it has become too hot for it anyway. I will tend to the horses…"

Elisabeth hesitated, then took the cloak. "But what about you, Erik? What will you sleep on?"

Erik chuckled roughly. "I fear no sleep will come to me on this day. Don't worry yourself with my well-being. I will keep watch…please, child, you'll soon be asleep standing up!"

"I am no child," Elisabeth grumbled unhappily before complying with Erik's request. The moment her head hit the warm cloak she was instantly greeted with a dreamless sleep. Erik looked a moment over them both before turning to relieve the horses of their various burdens.

Erik found that he had indeed dozed off a bit, for when he next became aware of the time, the sun was shining brightly through the trees. He quickly glanced toward Elisabeth and Brian; they were still fast asleep. Erik began to mentally prepare for the upcoming journey to Paris. How many times would they have to stop for supplies? How long would it take them to go straight to Paris? It pleased Erik to have time for actual preparation. He still did not know how he was going to tell Christine about his discoveries about himself…and the ultimate, tangible discovery of siblings…but he worried naught about her reaction. Erik smiled as he thought of his beloved wife. She would be entering her fifth month of pregnancy…and his opera was scheduled to start soon! The way things were currently going, Erik thought that perhaps they could make it to Paris in about a week and a half's time…just in time for his opening gala! Erik smiled broadly. Things were working out well. _Too well_, the evil, pessimistic voice said loudly. Erik ignored it.

"Did you manage to get some sleep, Erik?" Erik was startled out of his thoughts by the voice of his sister. He smiled, and patted the bit of Earth beside him.

"Come; join me in the most comfortable patch of dirt that ever existed!"

Erik was rewarded by a laugh, the first true laugh that he had heard from Elisabeth. She joined him, carefully smoothing the front of her work dress. She was hesitating about something, Erik could tell.

"Is there something wrong, Elisabeth?" Erik prompted the question without indecision. Elisabeth let out a sigh of relief and glanced at Erik.

"I'm pretty obvious, aren't I?" When Erik nodded, Elisabeth laughed again. "I was just coming to the revelation that I have run away from home with a brother whom I have never met and know nothing about…I was hoping, if you don't mind, that is, that you might tell me a bit about Paris…about your wife…and about yourself."

Erik frowned slightly. "My dear, I am not in the habit of revealing much about myself…but your position is unique, I daresay, and I would like to put your mind at ease. We have some time before we must set off again. What is it you would like to know? And please, for my sake, keep it within reason."

Elisabeth grinned. "Tell me about Paris first. Where are we going? Will we live in the city? What do you do in Paris?"

"Well, Paris is an old city…and it is perhaps fifty times bigger than the small village of your birth. My wife and I own a small cottage right outside of Paris, but we spend most of our time at the Opera Populaire, the greatest Opera House in all of Paris, if I may be allowed to say such things. My wife sings…and I am currently a patron there."

Wide eyes rewarded Erik as he looked to Elisabeth. "An Opera House! That's wonderful! I've always wanted to go…but Erik, what exactly is a 'patron'

Erik sighed. "A patron is someone who gives to the arts…he sponsors productions and things of that nature; and in return he receives some of the profits from the productions…but being a patron is not my career; more like a hobby. My passion is music…I am a composer of sorts. Maybe you will see one of my operas when we arrive in Paris."

"You compose music! Do you sing as well? I love to sing!" Erik looked at Elisabeth in amusement. She was easily excitable, and she was practically bouncing up and down.

"It does not surprise me that you can sing, my dear…Will you sing something for me? I have been without music since my absence from my wife…"

There was no response at first, but suddenly the air around Erik filled with a sweet song of music…it was light and delicate; it held no passion, no fire…but an innocence that was as beautiful as the young girl who sang it. Elisabeth stopped, and glanced at Erik expectantly.

"Well, what do you think? Am I good?" The teacher in Erik spoke up.

"Elisabeth, your voice is astounding…but it has no training. With practice, you could be a beautiful opera singer! And if you like, I could teach you…as I taught my wife."

"Oohhh, tell me about your wife! What does she look like? Where did you meet? Is she younger than you? Oh, and by the way, how old are you exactly?"

Erik held his head in his hands to hide his laughter…and his growing headache. "Elisabeth, please! You are asking questions too fast for me…please calm down. I will answer them one at a time." Elisabeth grinned sheepishly.

"I'm sorry, Erik…I just get a little overexcited sometimes. Please, continue."

"Yeah, I kind of noticed the 'overexcitement' issue that you seem to have…but to change the subject, I met my wife at the Opera Populaire…her name is Christine."

"I love that name! Oh, sorry…"

"Christine and I had known each other for several years before we attempted a relationship…she is an Angel in everyway. I think you will like her, Elisabeth. I believe that you two are close in age."

"I never have been able to have many friends…never had the chance, really. I would welcome it."

An uncomfortable silence lasped between the two. Elisabeth wrung her hands together. "Erik...your mask...will I ever see you true face?"

Erik looked up at Elisabeth sharply. "No. You will never see my face."

"But why, Erik? Surely you understand that I don't care about such things...I am in your debt for the rest of my life! What you look like cannot change how grateful and lucky I am to have met you."

"There is no reason for you to see...I protect you from a gruesome sight, Elisabeth."

"Erik...I know the idea is taking some time to get use to, but I am your sister! And you are my brother! I have already grown to care for you in the short time we have known each other...I have no doubts that I will love you as a brother soon enough. Please, trust me enough to let me know you entirely."

Erik sighed. "No, my dear. Now is not the time."

Once again the silence settled in between them. Erik noticed the dipping sun. It would soon be time to leave. Elisabeth was sitting slightly slumped over to the side. Erik was sure that she was upset with his refusal...how could he make it right? An idea formed in his head.

"Elisabeth, before we go wake Brian, might I ask you somequestions?"

Elisabeth turned towards him and beamed. "_You_ want to ask _me_ questions? Of course! I would be honored...especially after all the questions that I just asked…"

"When did you discover that you could sing?"

Elisabeth frowned in concentration. "I don't remember...I just found myself singing anytime I was alone. Itis a comfort..."

Erik nodded in agreement."It is indeed; music is something that can sooth any troubled soul. A few more questions, my dear, and then we have to leave camp." Elisabethlistened intently. "Do you know anything about Anita's parents? What where they like?"

"I never met them...but Mother spoke often of her father. He was a great man; a famous and wealthy man from Scotland." Elisabeth smiled suddenly. "You said that you composed music, did you not? That is what my grandfather was famous for...he was a great composer. He played many instruments as well, but his speciality was the violin. Isn't that strange how fate works? You never knew your grandfather, and yet you followed his footsteps."

Erik was at a loss for words. He felt connected to something for the first time in his life. Erik had a past now that he could be proud of...and it was because of the young lady sitting with him on the grass. Erik reached out and touched Elisabeth's cheek. "Thank you, my dear. Thank you for telling me a bit of my history. I shall have to find out the name of this man...unless you know?"

Elisabeth shook her head. "I don't even know my mother's maiden name...But perhaps if we looked together we could discover the secret."

Erik turned to face Elisabeth. "There is only one more question that I have, Elisabeth, but I am afraid that it is a personal question." Helooked her straight in the eye. Somehow, he always knew if someone was lying by looking into their eyes.

"What were your stepfather's plans for you? I know something was going on…"

The happiness that Elisabeth had been feeling immediately drained from her. She still held the gaze of his blue-green eyes. Erik was horrified at her reaction. "Elisabeth, you don't have to answer that...I don't mean to cause you pain." She held up a hand.

"I would like to tell you...it's just hard." Elisabeth took a deep breath, then glanced back up into Erik's eyes...so very much like her own.

"He wanted to…make money off my looks…he said that men would pay well for my company… He…wanted to sell me…as some type of…oh, I just can't say it!"

The horror of what Elisabeth was saying hit Erik full force. Elisabeth started to cry, softly, and Erik, to his own surprise, found himself hugging Elisabeth close to him.

"Shhh, little one, I will never let that happen to you…he will never find you. I will protect you, always. We have found each other…You are safe with me, little one, little sister…"

The sun sank fully into the ground, but its dying rays gave a brief illumination of the grieving siblings: both grieving for time lost.

* * *


	11. Reunion

**Demons of the Past**

**Ch. 11 Reunion**

**Author's note:** Here it is! Just like I promised, the much anticipated reunion of our favorite couple! YEA!…Also, the version of Music of the Night is from the movie…I just like the slight alterations better for some reason.

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, but I can claim my new character Elisabeth._

And now, on with the story…

* * *

Christine stood with Stefan in the wings of the stage and surveyed her surroundings. In a matter of days, Erik's opera _La Rose et la Nuit_ would be opening for the first time, and all around Christine were the fruits of so many people's labors. The sets and props were finished and looked magnificent; the dancing was perfected to a new level at the Opera House. And the singing…Christine knew without a shadow of a doubt that Erik would be pleased with the vocals that accompanied the orchestra. Now, the orchestra was another problem in itself. M. Reyer was having difficulties with the score, and with Erik not there to help correct the problems, it was impossible to determine if the changes were made in good taste. Christine sighed. There was so much to do, and so little time left…all the bustle around her just made her miss Erik more. Christine knew that he would have loved the atmosphere the Opera House gave off. The excitement, the delight…Christine turned her attention to Stefan, who was speaking.

"My dear, the stage is being set for the first dress rehearsal of Act One…would you care to watch from the audience? I was heading there myself."

Christine smiled brightly. "That would be lovely! I must confess, I am anxious to see the show all put together, and not in the little parts that I have seen…how about attendance, Stefan? Do we have a full house?"

"Christine, you wouldn't believe me…the tickets sold within hours! We are looking at a full house! Everyone I have spoken to seems thrilled that we have decided to open back to the public…and I have to admit, I was a bit concerned over the public's attitude of the events of nine months ago. But all seem supportive, and I dread bringing up past misfortunes. I do hope Erik returns to us before his show; it would be simply dreadful if he missed his first opera!"

Christine bit her lip, hiding the smile threatening to reveal her. Erik had indeed been present for his first opera…but this would be one performed under no false pretenses; it was not meet to seduce, or deceive, or evade…this opera was meant to showcase how brilliant a mind her husband truly had.

Stefan escorted Christine over to the front row of the theater, near the orchestra pit. They both took a seat.

"My dear, how is your health these days? Is all well?" The concern was evident in Stefan's eyes. Christine stroked her stomach fondly.

"I actually had a rather interesting visit with the Opera House doctor yesterday, Stefan.'

"Is everything all right? Do we need to get a second opinion? My dear, we can go immediately, I'll get my carriage-"

"Stefan, wait! Let me finish. Nothing is wrong…I just found out that I am carrying twins." Stefan was silent for a moment. He stared at Christine.

"T-T-T-Twins? Christine, that's wonderful!" Stefan leaned over his seat and hugged her briefly. Immediately, he straightened sharply.

"I'm sorry, Madam, I forget myself…but this is such exciting news! You must be thrilled," Stefan finished, but in a low voice, he added, "I take it that Erik is unaware?"

Christine bowed her head sadly. "Unfortunately. But I have no fears; I am certain he will be supportive." Stefan nodded.

"Of course, my dear, I did not mean to imply otherwise. It will be a bit of a shock for him, won't it?"

The two friends lapsed into a comfortable silence for a time, watching the run through of Act One. During one of the many interruptions by M. Reyer, Stefan spoke again:

"When do you expect Erik back, Christine? I did not think he intended to be gone so long. Has he sent you any letters, by chance?"

"No…I have not heard anything directly from my husband since he left. I know he did not wish to leave, but it was something he had to do. The waiting is the hardest part, I think. I worry about his safety, of course, but what is the hardest part of this whole ordeal is not knowing when to expect his return. Erik could return in two weeks time, or he could return in two months time. I just pray his return is as fast as possible…and that he is safe…" Christine was surprise to feel tears welling in her eyes. She had tried to shed few tears for her loneliness, but at times the feeling was so overwhelming that there was little else she could do. Christine glanced at Stefan, who was again entranced with the show.

"If you'll excuse me, my friend, I fear that I have grown a bit tired. I shall retire to my room, if you have no objections?"

"Of course, Christine. Would you like an escort?"

Christine smiled at Stefan. "I think that I will be able to handle the walk to my room, Stefan. I shall see you in the morning, bright and early, for the full dress rehearsal.

Stefan leaned forward and kissed Christine's hand. "I look forward to it, my dear. Pleasant dreams."

As she left, Christine felt a small pang of guilt for lying to her friend. She had no intention of retiring to her room just yet…she would go to her only refuge her at the Opera House when the pain and loneliness became too much…she would go to the roof of the Opera Populaire.

* * *

"Brian, you have to eat this…it's good, I promise, see, Sissy's eating it…come on Brian!" Elisabeth was attempting to feed her brother Brian a bit of bread, but for some reason he would not eat it.

"It's yucky, Lizzy, yucky…can't I have jam? Please? I've been good…" Elisabeth's heart went out to her younger brother. Brian had indeed been good; their party had traveled non-stop through the French countryside in their race to reach Paris. Brian, being only six years old, had tolerated about all he could of sleeping during the day and riding furiously at night. Elisabeth tried one more time.

"Brian, do you see the choo-choo? Will you open up the tunnel for the choo-choo?" Brian grinned broadly and opened his mouth wide as Elisabeth pretended the bit of bread was a train. This trick worked more times than not, and Brian ate the rest of his bread with no more fuss. Elisabeth had just turned to finish her own bread when a chuckle caused her to look up.

"It's not funny, Erik! I would like to see you do better!" Elisabeth eyed him furiously. "And Brian isn't the only one of us tired of the constant travel! How long until Paris, Erik?"

Erik sobered instantly. "We are a night's ride to the outskirts…if we ride hard tonight, we should make it to the Opera Populaire before dawn…and you will get to sleep in a bed for the first time in weeks."

Elisabeth's smile brightened the dreary surroundings. It had rained previously during the day, interrupting the little sleep they had been able to obtain. Suddenly, Erik and Elisabeth heard a cry. Erik looked up and discovered Brian no longer sitting on his blanket…they began to hear screams in earnest. Erik ran toward the noise, using a keen sense of hearing to pinpoint the location…and found Brian, crying furiously from the bottom of a small hill. Erik skidded to a stop on the muddy Earth, and kneeled beside Brian.

"Brian, are you all right! Can you hear me?" Brian, still bawling, looked at Erik. "Tell me where it hurts, Brian…show me where." Brian could not answer. Elisabeth found them, and joined Erik beside Brian.

"Oh, my little bee! Did you get some boo-boos? Where are your owies, little one?" Brian stopped crying for a spell, allowing several crocodile tears and sobs to escape him.

"I hurt my arm…and my leg! And I was so scared, cause I couldn't see you! I just saw this bird…it was so pretty, but then I fell! And I hurt, and I got a lot of owies!"

Erik picked Brian up gently and carried him back to camp. He settled Brian on the blanket, and began to look over his small body.

"Elisabeth, you amaze me. It seems that you almost need another language to talk to children…is it hard to learn what to say?" Knowing that Erik was quietly referring to his own impending fatherhood, Elisabeth laughed.

"Everybody uses something different…it's just whatever works best. How is Brian?"

Erik grimaced. "I don't think he has broken anything, but he is pretty scratched and bruised…I only have a bare minimum of supplies with me, so we will have to clean him up the best we can until we get to Paris…I think he will just be sore for a little while."

Elisabeth and Erik let Brian relax as they rushed to try and finish packing their supplies. Finally, they were ready to depart. Erik glanced at Elisabeth as he helped her to her mount.

"Perhaps it would be better if Brian rode with me this trip…I am the steadier rider, and I can keep him more comfortable; in addition, I know you didn't get much sleep today…you need less strain to make the last leg of the journey to Paris."

Elisabeth nodded, and Erik gathered Brian in his arms. He started to whimper as Erik mounted his stallion.

"I wanna ride with Lizzy…" Brian was on the verge of a tantrum. Erik knew that, and he did the only thing he could do…he started to sing to Brian. As Elisabeth and Erik rode, Erik sang a lullaby that would have put the moon to sleep and brought the sun out early. Very soon, Brian was fast asleep, his small arms place tightly against Erik's chest. Elisabeth rode beside him, staring at Erik in wonderment. At her stare, Erik shot her a questioning look. Elisabeth just laughed.

"Erik, you have nothing to worry about when it comes to being a good father. You will do great!"

For some reason, Elisabeth's words filled Erik with well-deserved confidence. He rode in silence for the rest of the trip, but his heart lightened as they neared their final destination: Paris.

* * *

Erik looked up at the night sky. Judging by the moon's placement, they still had a good four hours or so of night left. They had arrived in Paris in perfect time. Erik stopped his horse suddenly, and Elisabeth pulled her mare close.

"Why are we stopping, Erik?"

Erik gestured to the front. "This is the beginnings of Paris, Elisabeth. I thought that you might want to know…"

Elisabeth stared at the mass of buildings lined before her. Her concentration had been solely on keeping up with Erik; she had not noticed the thinning trees, or the widening road. Elisabeth stared in awe. _This was nothing like I expected_, she thought, as Erik began to lead them into Paris at a slower rate. Very soon, a large building came into view.

"This is the Opera Populaire. It is our stop. There is a stable on the side…we should be able to wake some stablehands."

Erik felt a sense of eagerness as they entered the stables. Very soon, very very soon, he would be reunited with Christine. His lips tingled with an anticipated kiss…the very electricity that had been absent for so long caused his mind to shudder in pleasure. To Erik's surprise, there were three stablehands up and about. They nodded to Erik, and took their horses. Brian awoke as Erik handed him to Elisabeth, and he insisted that he walk and not be toted. Erik led Elisabeth and Brian through the maze of corridors inside the Opera House before stopping at a door. Erik motioned for the children to stay outside the door. Erik knocked quickly three times on the door; the door flung opened to reveal a rather tousled looking Madam Giry. Her eyes focused on Erik, then widened.

"Erik!" Madam Giry reached for Erik and hugged him tightly. Erik hugged back, lightly.

"I have missed you, Marie."

"And I you, Erik, but not nearly as much as Christine has, I'll bet!" Madam Giry's eyes focused on the two children beside Erik.

"Erik, who..?" Erik smiled.

"Marie, let me introduce you to my siblings…this is Elisabeth, and this is Brian…" Elisabeth came forward and curtsied.

"An honor, Madam." Madam Giry shot a look of bewilderment at Erik, who merely shook his head.

"We have traveled a long way, Marie…I will explain all, I promise…but I need to see Christine. Can you help me make arrangements for them?" He gestured at his siblings. "They need a place to sleep…and Brian has some minor bruises and abrasions, but they can wait 'til morning…"

Madam Giry shook the rest of the sleep from her features. "Of course! You go find Christine, I'll take care of these fine children. Come, Elisabeth, I believe you and my daughter may be the same size…we can get you a change of sleep clothes."

Elisabeth first looked at Erik a bit apprehensively. Erik smiled, and nodded toward Madam Giry. "Marie is like a mother to me…she will care for you. I will be back to check on you, you have my word." Elisabeth nodded, and followed Madam Giry down the hall. Madam Giry had already picked Brian up, and was crooning to him as he laid his head on her shoulder.

Erik's eyes followed them until they disappeared around a corner. Finally left alone, Erik turned to go towards Christine's room. Just as he was about to turn onto the hallway, he heard the click of a door open. Erik poked his head around the corner and was surprised to find Christine in the hallway. She did not see him, and turned and headed up the long corridor in the opposite direction. Erik just stood there, entranced at the mere image of his beloved…she had changed, her body had grown round and full…but her face still held the same light, the same beauty. Erik followed her, not knowing her destination. After Christine took the first flight of stairs up, Erik knew she was headed for the roof. Luckily, Erik knew a short cut, and he took it to beat Christine there. Christine emerged through the door, a protective hand placed over her stomach. Erik drank in the image of her, standing with the wind blowing her hair slightly, looking radiant in the bright moonlight. He started to come towards her when Christine spoke into the night.

"Oh, Erik…where are you? I long for you…I crave your touch…your embrace…I have never experienced such loneliness…it is agony! I just pray that you will return to me, whole and unharmed!"

Christine started to cry, her tears falling to the ground untouched. "I promised myself that I wouldn't cry…I promised myself that I would be happy…but I can't anymore. Father, please, protect my Angel…send him home…"

Erik felt his heart break within his chest. He had not known the sufferings that he was placing upon Christine with his absence…Resolve filled him, and Erik emerged from behind the large Angel statue.

Christine started to sing:

**Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation.  
****Darkness stirs, and wakes imagination.  
****Silently the senses, abandon their defenses.  
****Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor.  
****Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender.  
****Turn your face away, from the garish light of day!  
****Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light…  
****And listen to the Music of the Night…**

Erik froze, entranced by the sight and sound of his wife. She was singing the love song that he had written for her…it seemed so long ago. Christine faced away from Erik, unaware of his presence. Christine hugged herself with her long, graceful arms as the wind ruffled her thin nightdress.

**Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dream,  
****Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before…  
****Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar!  
****And you'll live as you've never lived before…**

"How true those words are," Christine murmured quietly to herself. Erik began to move again, softly masking his steps as he approached.

**Softly, deftly, music shall caress you…  
****Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you.  
****Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind, in this darkness which you know you cannot hide…  
****The darkness of the Music of the Night…  
****Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world,  
****Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before…  
****Let your soul take you where you long to be!**

Christine let the note ring in the silence of the night. She started crying softly, swaying against an unseen force. She shudder with the cold of loneliness…until she felt strong arms wrap themselves around her, pulling her close to a lean figure that she knew so well…

**Only then can you belong to me…**

Erik whispered softly in Christine's ear. She turned, her eyes wide in amazement. Erik savored the moment…just the two of them, standing on the roof…his wife's eyes full of adoration and disbelief. Erik started the motions again, twisting Christine away from him once more so that her back was facing him. He let his hands wander over her body, lingering a bit when Christine shuddered against him.

**Floating, falling, sweet intoxication.  
****Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation.**

Erik guided Christine's hands to explore his body, and turned her to face him. He put her small hand against his face, feeling the softness of her touch.

**Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in,  
****To the power of the music that I write…  
****The power of the Music of the Night…**

At his words, Christine flung her arms around her husband, pulling him close for a passionate kiss. Erik felt as if he had been given back his soul…a part so essential, and yet sometimes taken far too lightly. The heat of Christine's body warmed every inch of Erik; her touch was like a fire that ignited his heart. Erik ran his fingers through her dark curls, as her hands roamed across his back, pulling him ever closer. The loneliness and pain were gone in a fleeting moment, and all that remained were the two lovers, locked in an embrace that would never be broken completely.

**You alone can make my song take flight…  
****Help me make the Music of the Night…**

Erik finished the song, holding his wife close to him, afraid to let her go. Christine looked at her husband with tear stained eyes and whispered just three words.

"I love you…" Those words were enough for Erik; they were all he wanted to hear. He held her, just held her, until finally Christine pulled reluctantly away.

"I've missed you so much, Christine, I have ached for you for so long…so much has changed! Look at you!" Erik leaned forward and tentatively placed a hand on Christine's stomach. "Our child…is healthy? You have had no problems?" Christine smiled broadly.

"Our children are safe so far, Erik…I have been very careful." Christine watched Erik's eyes, saw them blink in puzzlement, and then widen in recognition.

"Children? You mean…twins?" When Christine nodded, Erik staggered backward a few steps and put his hand to his face, trying to hold his intense emotions in. But when Christine moved his hand, the battle was lost. Erik fell to his knees before Christine, and grasped her hand in his.

"I have missed so much! I have not been there as I should have been…How can I ever make amends for not being the husband that you deserve!" Erik sobbed, letting all the anguished tears flood from his soul. Christine kneeled down in front of her husband, and cradled his head against her chest.

"You have been there…ever step of the way. I have never once doubted your love…it's all that has kept me going at times. You are here with me now; and we will never be parted again. Never…"

Erik did not look up. "There is still so much to say…I found out so much, Christine, so much…about myself, and about my love for you. You truly are an Angel…only an Angel could have saved a demon."

Christine stood from the ground and pulled Erik up with her. She kissed him hard on the lips, standing on her very tiptoes to do it. "We have all day to catch up, love…oh!"

Erik looked up in surprise. "Christine, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing, quick, give me your hand!"

Christine placed Erik's hand over her stomach. Erik was puzzling over Christine's actions when suddenly he felt a strange pressure against his hands. He looked at Christine in bewilderment. Christine certainly hadn't done that…there it was again! Erik moved his hand a bit, and saw some of the flesh from Christine stomach rise where his hand had just been. Erik felt the tears swell in his eyes…his child! He had just felt his child move from within his wife. Erik looked at Christine, and no words were necessary to express what he was feeling at that moment.

"Do they do that often?"

"All the time now. The doctor says it's natural for them to begin to move within me…it is such a strange sensation!"

Looping his arm with hers, Erik pulled Christine toward the entrance to the Opera House.

"Savor it, my dear…Come, there is a few hours before dawn. Let's try to get some sort of sleep before we talk later. There is so much to tell…and so much time to make up for."


	12. Foolish Fop

**Demons of the Past**

**Ch. 12: Foolish Fop **

**Author's note:** Thanks again for all the reviewers! I am glad that you all seem to like the direction I am taken the story. I liked this chapter a lot; and I can't wait to write about Erik's opera…I actually wrote out a storyline for it, and I have a song (curtsey of my bro Alan again) This is a bit of a transition; and I have to say that I get to put Raoul in his place this chapter. (Did I say 'I get to'? I meant 'Erik gets to' LOL) Hope you guys enjoy, and please remember to hit the review button. Love and Hugs!

_Disclaimer: If I owned the Phantom of the Opera, then in the movie version I would not have let the FOP win the swordfight…I mean, come on! It was unbelievable! LOL_

And now, on with the story…

* * *

Stefan stood patiently in the Manager's Box. He glanced at his pocket watch, then glanced at the anxious man sitting in one of the red velvet chairs. Stefan sighed as the young Vicomte ran his fingers untidily through his hair; then, seemingly realizing that he was ruffling his hair, he removed his fingers and tried diligently to rearrange his locks. It was a losing battle; the damage had been done. Raoul jumped from his seat and began to pace the inside of the box.

"Where is she, Stefan? She said that she would meet us for the dress rehearsal…she is never late! Something must be wrong…I have a bad feeling about this."

"Vicomte, please, calm yourself…Madam Massenet is just under a half an hour late. Perhaps she had difficulties that we do not know of…a woman in Madam Massenet's condition I'm sure can be forgiven for lateness; don't you agree, Vicomte?"

Still storming around the box, Raoul scowled. "That's not the point! Christine's tardiness obviously means that something is wrong! I can't just sit around and wait to find out!"

Stefan put a restraining hand on the Vicomte's arm. "Monsieur, allow me to send one of the servants to check on Madam Massenet; they can report to us if they find anything amiss."

"Servants! Servants cannot be trusted with the safety of Christine! No, I will go myself, Stefan. I shall return shortly."

The Vicomte glided out of the box. Stefan sighed exasperatedly, and called out after him:

"Don't do anything too rash, Vicomte!"

* * *

The feeling of pure comfort aroused Erik from the deep, dreamless sleep he found himself enjoying. He stretched his sore muscles catlike, and glanced down at the vision of beauty lying beside him. Christine's chest rose and fell with each breath, and even in sleep her hands rested protectively on the bulge of her stomach. The last thing Erik wanted to do was wake her, but Christine stirred at Erik's gentle caress of her body. She turned and face inward toward Erik.

"Hi there," she said sleepily, batting her eyes to remove the sleep. Erik reached out and tenderly moved a stray curl from her face.

"You're a beautiful sight, my Angel…a beautiful sight indeed."

Christine smiled, and snuggled closer to her husband. "I think I could stay like this all day. Can't we?" Erik loved the feel of Christine against his body; he enjoyed how Christine fit him perfectly. Every curve, every inch of her body just melted into Erik's. They were made for each other; that was plain enough to see. Erik held Christine tightly, feeling the curve of her stomach resting directly against his skin. He could still feel the tiny movements within her…

"Christine, do you think we will have girls or boys?"

Christine spoke, the sound slightly muffled against Erik's chest. "Or one of each, love? I don't know…I haven't even thought of names!"

Erik chuckled deeply; Christine felt the rumbling vibrate her body. "We have time for that; let's just worry about getting the twins here and keeping you safe."

A sigh escaped Christine. She was absolutely content in every way. Christine glanced at Erik, and found his eyes held a far-away look.

"What's wrong, Angel?"

Erik just shook his head. "I found my mother, Christine."

Christine rose slightly in the bed, propping herself up with her elbows. "How did it go?"

"I don't know, Christine. For one moment, I didn't know what to think. When I saw her, for the first time in so long, I just wanted to fall to my knees and beg her to tell me that she still loved me as a son. She was so cruel…and I wanted nothing more than to kill her where she stood before me! I could have done it, Christine! It would have been so easy…but she had a family! She had a daughter, and a son…and she treated them horribly! And nothing was wrong with them; they have no deformities or flaws. There should have been no reason for her to act the way she did…I don't understand, Christine. I thought that I would understand everything, but all I did was bring more trouble with me."

Erik leaned close to Christine, hugging her against the chill he felt in his heart. "I brought my brother and sister with me to Paris, Christine. I couldn't leave them…Anita's husband had horrible plans for my sister; unthinkable acts! I had to take them; I couldn't leave them to suffer like I did…they are innocent! I didn't want them to lose their innocence."

Christine was silent for a time, playing with Erik's hair. "My Angel, you did the right thing…it's wonderful that you have found a family! This is the type of past that you need, Erik…not a horrible, distorted past, but a family!"

Erik twisted in the bed. "There's more, Christine…I killed two men while in Calais."

Christine drew a sharp breath, and drew away from Erik. "What! How could you, Erik! You wallowed in blood once again, when you were suppose to be finding your true self! Does that mean that you are nothing but a murderer?"

Erik bowed his head at Christine's words. "There was a girl in an alley way; two men were trying to…_deflower_ her. I stepped in on the girl's behalf, and the two men attacked me. I was defending myself, I swear it! But most of all, I was defending the girl; she was so powerless; so helpless…"

Tears fell from Erik's face. "The girl…turned out to be my sister! It haunts me to think that if I hadn't intervened, if I hadn't helped her, then she would have died, or had her innocence ripped from her; if that had happened, I never would have met her! In a split moment, my life would have changed, and I never would have known it! What if I hadn't shown her compassion? I argued with myself before I even interrupted the men. I…almost didn't help her. I…"

The words stopped as Christine kissed him softly. She kissed away the tears, and took his hands in her own.

"Erik…you are the most honorable man I have known…it just took you some time to believe it yourself. There is truth in you that can't be ignored; you just pushed that part of you aside. You traveled a long way to find yourself, and not only do you return victorious, but you come with your only family! I love you, Erik, and I have never been prouder."

They laid a moment longer, basking in the warmth that was generated between their two bodies…and maybe a little from the two little ones growing within Christine. Their moment was interrupted by a loud knocking on the door.

Erik lifted his head. "What is it now?"

"Christine! Christine, are you in there?"

Christine eyes widened. "That's Raoul…"

Erik growled. "Ignore the fop. He'll go away."

Suddenly, the door burst opened, and the Vicomte stood before them, red faced and breathing hard. Erik stared in shock for a moment, then leaned to the side of the bed to retrieve his mask. The action was automatic, and as he felt the cool feel of the mask upon his face, he let the rage flow through his body. Erik got out of bed as Christine pulled the covers up to her chin. Raoul just stood there, staring. Erik reached him in a second, and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. He threw Raoul bodily from the room, causing him to crash into the opposite wall out in the hallway. Raoul remained on the floor, as Erik came into the hall, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

"What the Hell are you doing! Do you have a death wish, Vicomte, because your actions speak that you do!"

Raoul regarded Erik calmly, even though his body was throbbing. Erik was leaning against the opposite wall, the light reflecting off the numerous scars on his back and chest.

"Ah…Erik…nice to see you again."

Erik grabbed Raoul and forced him to his feet roughly. "You have a lot of nerve, barging in on my wife like that…has that been a regular occurrence in my absence, Vicomte? And to think, I thought you were honorable."

Raoul batted Erik's hands away. He was rewarded with a sharp punch to the stomach.

"You'll not want to touch me again, Vicomte…next time, it will be your handsome face. Now, if you would be kind enough to answer my questions?"

Raoul growled, low in his throat. He found the words would not come; his throat was constricted from lack of oxygen. Raoul caught his breath from the blow to his stomach, then continued: "How dare you question my honor, you monster! I was worried about Christine…she is never late for an appointment, and she was supposed to meet Stefan and me to watch the first dress rehearsal of _your_ damn opera!"

To Raoul's surprise, Erik smiled. "Excellent! Return to Stefan and inform him that Christine and I will be joining him shortly."

Raoul sputtered a bit. "I am not your bloody servant!"

Erik leaned in, his tone deadly. "Oh yes you are, fop. Understand this: if you do not remember your place and keep away from my wife, then so help me, not even Christine will be able to protect you from me…"

Raoul sneered. "You do not frighten me, _Phantom_." He spat the word at Erik.

Erik smiled. "Only foolish ones would say such a thing to me, Vicomte. For your sake, I hope that you are not foolish in the least bit…for foolish fops often find a noose around their necks…"

With that, Erik gracefully returned to his room and shut the door. Raoul heard the click of the lock. He sighed, and rubbed his various bruises gingerly. _If they had locked the door in the first place, I wouldn't have barged in…_Raoul shook his head. _I have to stop acting this way…Christine is a married woman, and now that the Phantom has returned…it is_ _time to move on, Raoul…time to find someone new._ Raoul smiled as the thought of finding his own soul-mate crossed his mind. For the first time in months, Raoul felt hope. All it took was for it to be scared into him. He would never admit that he was intimidated by Erik; but in all honesty, who could not feel intimated around a man who could pick you up and throw you? He turned from the locked door, and headed to tell Stefan to wait a little longer.

* * *

Elisabethawakened in a strange room, lying on a strange bed, and wearing clothing that was certainly not her own. Frowning a little at her surroundings, she finally remembered where she was. She was in Paris! Elisabeth jumped from the bed and glanced around the room. Her things had been placed in the corner of the room, along with Brian's small pack. Elisabeth glanced back in the bed and was relieved to see her youngest brother sound asleep. She stroked his hair a bit, and Brian woke.

"Sissy, I'm hungry…"

Elisabeth laughed. "I am too, little bee…let's get you dressed, all right?" Elisabeth went to Brian's pack and dressed him carefully in a clean shirt and pants. Once Brian was taken care of, Elisabeth stepped behind the screen in the room and changed into a work dress. It was a bit dirty and wrinkled from their journey, but Elisabeth hoped that she would soon have a chance to properly clean her clothes. Until then, she would just have to make do. She came around the screen, and yelped in surprise.

"Brian! Where did you find that!" Brian grinned at her from the floor, covered head to toe in some kind of white powder. At the look of anger on Elisabeth's face, the grinned slid off to be replaced with large, glassy eyes.

"It was in the drawer…are you mad?" Brian's lower lip started to tremble, and Elisabeth blew out a sigh.

"No, Brian, but now your clothes are ruined…we will have to change you." At that most inconvenient moment, there was a knock on the door.

"Elisabeth? Are you there?" It was Erik. Elisabeth fumbled a moment with Brian, who seemed to enjoy batting Elisabeth's hands away as she attempted to take off his soiled shirt. Finally giving up, Elisabeth opened the door with a fuming face.

"Yes, I am here! Please, come in, won't you? And do be careful of the art project in the middle of the floor…Brian decided to explore a little with women's makeup."

Brian made a face. "Girl stuff? Get it off me!"

Erik just stood in the doorway, an amused expression on his features.

"Seems as if you have your hands full, Elisabeth…Christine, this is Elisabeth and Brian…everyone, this is my wife, Christine."

Elisabeth blushed a deep red as Erik moved a bit to allow his wife a view into the room. Elisabeth started to curtsey, but Christine came forward quickly.

"None of that, now. We are family!" She enveloped Elisabeth in a warm hug that Elisabeth returned gratefully. Christine held her at arms length.

"My dear, I can certainly see the family resemblance…You are very beautiful, Elisabeth. From what Erik has told me, you can sing as well. I look forward to spending time together."

Elisabeth nodded happily. "I did notice that Erik and I look alike…but no one has ever called me beautiful before. Erik told me that you like to sing too. Maybe we will find that we have much in common."

As Erik entered the room, he moved directly to Christine, and wrapped his arms around her. Christine smiled and whispered something to him. At Erik's roguish grin, Elisabeth laughed. She had only known Christine for a moment, and already she could tell that she was going to like her. Elisabeth noticed the immediate change in her brother once Christine was present. His melancholy, guarded personality was replaced with a disposition that was happy and carefree. _What a change_, Elisabeth thought. _How can a person have that much effect on another?_ Elisabeth watched Christine and Erik moved together toward Brian; Erik's hands never left Christine's side, and Christine had adoration in every feature of her face. They were truly in love; and if Christine could make her brother as happy as he was, then Elisabeth knew that she would grow to love Christine as well. Erik finally moved away from Christine to come toward Elisabeth.

"Did you sleep well, Elisabeth? I hope that you were comfortable." Erik spoke softly as Christine began to talk to Brian. She asked him if he wanted to play a game, and Brian nodded enthusiastically. Christine played peek-a-boo that somehow ended with his shirt coming over his head. Elisabeth realized, with a smile, that Christine was trying to change Brian's clothes; obviously she had heard Elisabeth's previous frustrations with her younger brother. Elisabeth turned her attention back to Erik, who was also watching his wife interact with the child with a pleased expression on his face.

"Oh, it was the best I have had in years! And I simply adore Madam Giry…she told me all about chorus and dancing. I think that I want to try out for the chorus, Erik, what do you think?"

"I think it would be simply wonderful for you, my dear. You have a talent; more so than many of the others already in employment. If you like, I will give you a tour of the Opera House later; you can see the ballet and chorus dormitories and practice rooms…I think that you will enjoy this place, Elisabeth. You will come to no harm here."

Elisabeth looked at her feet intently. "Will you still consider giving me lessons? I still feel as if I need to be perfect if I want to sing in front of an audience…"

Erik smiled slightly. "Of course. I could never back out on my word. We can arrange practices as soon as you like."

Elisabeth looked at Brian, who now had on a new set of clothes. She stared at Christine in shock.

"How in the world did you do that?" Christine laughed, a clear laugh that echoed through the room.

"Brian and I came to an understanding, didn't we?" Brian grinned toothily.

"I get special candy!"

Elisabeth and Erik burst into laughter. The moment was very nice; the new family was together for the first time. The feeling in the air was one of comfort and belonging; for the first time, Elisabeth felt that she was truly wanted. She glanced at Christine, her wide eyes sparkling from laughter. Christine noticed her look and leaned forward to squeeze her hand. Elisabeth was touched, to say the least. Erik sobered first, of course; he composed himself before turning his attention back to Elisabeth.

"How would you like to see the dress rehearsal for my opera? Tomorrow is gala night…but I can understand if you are too tired…" Erik's voice trailed off at the joy evident on Elisabeth's face.

"Do I want to come! Of course! Can we go now?"

Christine grinned at the girl's enthusiasm. "Well, there's your answer, Erik. Let's go and enjoy your opera."

* * *

A little while later, Erik led the group to the Manager's Box. At Erik's entry, Stefan rose from his seat, grinning broadly.

"Erik! I am so glad that you made it back! How have you been, my friend?"

Erik extended his hand to Stefan. "I am fine, Stefan. I must apologize for my extended absence…my attentions were needed elsewhere. I had…family difficulties."

Stefan smiled ruefully. "Don't we all find ourselves with that problem at some point?" He regarded Christine. "I am glad that you are well, Madam. I must confess I was a bit concerned by your tardiness earlier this morning, but I daresay the Vicomte was more so!" Christine looked into the box.

"Where is Raoul, Stefan?"

"He stepped out for a moment…I expect him back very shortly. Erik, I see that we have a few new additions; who might they be?"

Erik motioned Elisabeth forward. "This is my sister, Elisabeth Massenet; and my younger brother, Brian. They will be staying with Christine and I indefinitely. Elisabeth, Brian, this is the manager of the Opera Populaire: Stefan Javere."

Stefan looked at Erik with sympathy. "Ah…may I offer my condolences, then? A death in the family can be hard…"

Erik looked a bit puzzled, but Christine picked up immediately. "Yes, Stefan, it was sad for Erik's mother to pass on; it is why we offered to take his siblings in."

Stefan nodded and motioned for them to seat themselves. "I will be right back. I must check on the Vicomte; see what it is that's keeping him." Stefan exited the room.

Erik leaned in to Christine, and whispered for her ears only: "Are you sure that lie was wise, my dear?"

"Oh, and I suppose telling him that your sister and brother ran away with you is better, love?" Christine hissed a response back. Elisabeth, seated directly behind Erik on the left side, added her two cents; apparently Erik had not been as quiet as he had originally thought. "I agree with Christine. No one should know the entire circumstances of our coming to live here…by the way, Erik, I like the last name…"

Erik scowled and shushed her with a look. Brian toddled forward wanting to sit in Elisabeth's lap. Elisabeth fussed with him for a moment, then allowed it. The box now was certainly full. The small box held just six seats; Erik, and Christine occupied the first row of seats,and Elisabeth sat in the second row, with Brian curled comfortably in her lap. Elisabeth was curious to see who Christine had referred to earlier; when would he join them? Christine seemed to know him well. With perfect timing for a young girl's curiosity, the Vicomte made his appearance, along with Stefan.

"Hello, all. Sorry for my _lateness_." Raoul came in and took the seat on the same row as Elisabeth, but furthest from her. She sighed in disappointment. _So much for getting to know people_, she thought.

"That's quite all right, Vicomte…we were certainly enjoying your absence." Elisabeth was slightly in shock at the tone of voice her brother used; it bristled with barely veiled dislike. Elisabeth would go so far as to say that her brother _loathed _this man sitting beside her…

"Well…I must tell you then how much I enjoyed _your _absence; are you planning on leaving again? One can only hope. I expected nothing less, really. You leave Paris when the Opera House could have used your help in trying to perform _your_ opera; and more importantly, your wife is pregnant. Or did you notice, Monsieur?"

Erik said nothing. Elisabeth, on the other hand, grew pink. She could not silence her biting tongue. "How dare you say such things to my brother! I don't know who you think you ar-" Erik silenced her with a quick clasp of her arm. The Vicomte turned slightly in his chair and regarded Elisabeth for the first time. The acknowledgement was cold; Elisabeth felt the hatred burning in the Vicomte's eyes. _Whatever in the world have I done!_

"I think, Mademoiselle, that I am the Vicomte de Chagny, and if I want to speak to Monsieur Massenet I will do so any way I choose. You have a sharp tongue to be one so young…"

Elisabeth went red with rage, and she started to retort when Erik interrupted.

"You forget yourself, Vicomte…what a _foolish_ thing to do, rising to the bait of my sister. Your anger is misdirected, and that is perhaps the most foolish thing of all. You don't want to do anything _foolish_ now do you, dear Vicomte." Erik's voice was cold and low, and Raoul understood the veiled threat within his words; it was the same threat from their discussion in the hallway.

Raoul lowered his head; he did feel ashamed that he had taken his anger out on an innocent victim. He hadn't been present when introductions where made, so he did not know the girl's or the boy's name. Raoul studied Erik's sister. He did not let the surprise show on his features, but it certainly dominated his mind. _Erik had siblings?_ Raoul glanced at the young boy sitting obediently in his sister's lap. He had untidy black hair, and the resemblance was strong to the man seated in front of him. Raoul had to admit that regardless of being Erik's sister, the girl was beautiful. Her cheeks were still flushed red from her anger, and when she felt his eyes on her, she turned to regard him equally. The startling blue-green eyes seemed to burn through his own hazel ones…Raoul realized that he had seen those eyes before; they were the same intense shade as her older brother. She had long, flowing raven hair; it hung unbound behind her, disappearing from view. Raoul was surprised when he felt a bit of stirring within him. It was not a sexual rousing, but it was something deeper…the girl intrigued him. She had stood up for Erik with passion; she obviously cared deeply for him. She had not backed down from Raoul even when he had told her his noble title; Raoul was quite sure that if Erik had not interrupted, he would still be receiving an earful…definitely intriguing. _Still_, Raoul thought, _she is Erik's sister, and therefore absolutely off limits_. He wanted nothing to do with his rival. After a moment's pause, Raoul inclined his head at the young girl.

"I apologize, Mademoiselle; I did forget myself…I beg your pardon."

Elisabeth opened her mouth to tell him what he could do with that apology when Christine turned slightly in her seat to look at Elisabeth. At her gaze, Elisabeth knew that she must be civil; Erik's position in the opera house could be compromised if his sister caused trouble between the patrons…and Elisabeth did not want Erik to regret his decision to bring her here. She did the only thing she could think of: she offered the Vicomte her hand. The Vicomte looked at it in surprise; he was quite sure she wasn't going to accept his apology. He leaned across the empty seat and kissed Elisabeth's fingers lightly.

"I accept your apology, Monsieur Vicomte, and I hope that you will accept mine in return. I had no right to speak to you in the manner in which I did." The sincerity of her apology was shocking to Raoul's ears. He found his mouth moving of its own accord.

"All will be forgiven, Mademoiselle, if you will only tell me your name." Raoul spoke quietly and lightly, not betraying the odd pounding in his heart. Had he really just said that? It certainly wasn't what he meant to say. Raoul felt the heat of a glare, and glanced up to find that Erik had turned sharply in his seat, and regarded the Vicomte with a burning look. Raoul was playing with fire, he knew, but he would continue to dance among the flames until they burned him. He watched Elisabeth's beautiful eyes flicker, then smile in accordance to the small smile on her lips.

"Elisabeth, Monsieur…Elisabeth Massenet."

"Elisabeth…it is an honor to make your acquaintance." The Vicomte smiled radiantly at her, and Elisabeth felt a slow blush creep across her cheeks. Christine glanced at her husband carefully; he was grasping the arm rests firmly with white knuckled hands and refusing to meet her eyes. Erik finally met Christine's gaze, and Christine saw the protectiveness there. She patted his arm lovingly and reassuringly.

"He's just being civil, my love…after all, you did 'politely threaten' him." Christine spoke in a low voice. Erik sighed, the anger releasing within him.

"You are right, of course." Speaking now to Stefan, Erik said: "When is the dress rehearsal scheduled to start, Stefan?"

Stefan, eager to talk about something that wouldn't lead to an argument, answered immediately. "Well, I told everyone to reconvene starting at noon. M. Reyer is just starting the orchestra warm-ups…"

The rest of the evening passed pleasantly. Erik only had a few minor things to discuss with Reyer, but had thoroughly enjoyed the performance. Erik explained much to Elisabeth, who had never seen an opera. Erik laughed a little at her questions, revealing that it was seen as bad luck to have a full dress rehearsal so close to the opening night; what they watched now was but a partial one. Erik reassured Elisabeth that when she was aware of all the plot twists, the story would make much more sense. Everyone talked gaily amongst themselves; all but Raoul. The Vicomte sat in silence, contemplating the young woman beside him. She was intriguing, indeed.


	13. Succumb to Me

**Demons of the Past**

**Ch. 13: Succumb to Me**

**Author's note:** This is the most risqué chapter I have ever written; while it has no actual sexual content, it has many innuendos. If this is not your cup of tea, then you might want to skip this chapter. I will give a synopsis at the end-but, like my death scene in a previous chapter, it is nothing bad. I will stick to my rating…but please remember that Erik has been gone a loooong time. I had to write a little 'special time' for him; especially after all I have put him through! It's all in good taste…Thanks for reading everyone. YEA REVIEWERS! **P.S**. YEA NEW REVIEWERS TOO!

_Disclaimers: The Martians coming to Earth told me that once they take over, they will let me own the Phantom of the Opera! And France! And all the cute little koalas from Australia! _

_**(Deep Breath as the insanity leaves me)**_

And now, on with the story…

* * *

The dress rehearsal ended mid-afternoon. Erik snapped off a huge yawn, surprising himself and those around him. Erik murmured an apology, but found that tiredness hung from every feature. Christine looked at her husband in concern.

"Stefan, Raoul, I believe that we should retire now. My family has traveled long and hard, and they have had little rest. Thank you for the company, all. We will see you tomorrow for the gala." Christine spoke softly to Stefan and Raoul. A glance around her proved her words true. Brian was asleep on Elisabeth's shoulder, and Elisabeth herself had heavy eyes. Erik was the most obvious, however. He was not hiding his weariness at all; perhaps he was too tired to care what people thought. Christine put her arms around her husband's waist, and he leaned into her gratefully.

"Of course. See you tomorrow!" Stefan called cheerfully behind them as they left the box. Christine glanced at Erik.

"Love, are you all right?" Erik shook his head slightly.

"Let's go home, Christine. I just want to go home."

Christine steered the group toward the stables. She asked one of the stablehands to order a carriage for them. She turned to speak to Elisabeth, still holding tightly to Erik.

"You will get to see your new home, my dear. I do hope that you like it…" Elisabeth smiled sleepily.

"I am sure it will be perfect, Christine. Does it have a warm bed?" Christine laughed lightly.

The carriage pulled up, and everyone climbed into it. Elisabeth settled herself in a corner of the carriage, Brian still asleep in her arms. Erik sat with his covered right side facing inward toward the carriage. He leaned slightly against the window; he knew he would be unable to sleep, but he liked the feel of the cool glass against his smooth cheek. Erik lifted his head a bit when he heard the sounds of…_snores_? He glanced at Christine, who had heard as well, and they both glanced at Elisabeth. She was in a deep sleep, her mouth slightly opened as the faint sounds escaped her body. Erik caught Christine's eyes again, and this time she poked him slightly in the side.

"Don't you dare laugh, Erik. Don't you dare! She is so tired…"

Erik sighed and draped his arm around his wife's shoulders. "I know…I have to admit I feel responsible. We rode nonstop for two weeks; we rested during the day and rode at night. There were no breaks or stops. I was afraid that we might have been followed, and I wanted no one to find us…" Erik trailed off as Christine snuggled closer to his muscular body.

"Who am I kidding? I wanted to get to you as fast as I could, Christine…I would have rode the same pace without my siblings; Hell, I may have traveled day and night! I have been denied your touch for too long, love…I fear I shall die from lack of it." Christine was a bit confused for a moment; they had spent the small hours of the morning entwined in each other's arms, and they were together all day…she felt her cheeks flush as she realized the touch he was talking about. Christine turned slightly against him, gazing into his glowing blue-green orbs, rich with desire and wanting. She lifted her chin slightly, invitingly, and Erik took her mouth to his roughly, kissing her in a desperately beautiful way. Christine loved the feel of his lips on hers; she loved how he managed to steal the breath straight from her lungs. Christine felt the desire in her rise as well, and she suddenly broke off.

"If we…that is to say…we can't…not here…" Christine sputtered the words, her face flushed and lips bruised.

Erik gazed at her; the last thing that he wanted to do was stop. However, he knew that his wife was right. He pulled away from her slightly, leaving the warming embrace. Christine sighed in disappointment, not wanting him to quit holding her; Erik laughed lightly.

"If you want me to be a good boy and control myself, I cannot be tempted. You are the only one that can break my reasoning…my logic…all I see is passion and flames."

Christine turned to look at the still sleeping Elisabeth, feeling her cheeks burn in embarrassment. _She is his sister! She shouldn't see me kiss him like that…_

"But when we get to the cottage…you will succumb to me; totally and completely. Tonight, you will know such passion as you have never known before." Erik spoke in a low growl, his hand going to Christine's chin to cup her face in his hand. Christine shuddered; Erik's voice was thick with emotion. It reminded her of his Don Juan performance.

**You have come here…in pursuit of your deepest urge…in pursuit of that wish which 'til now has been silent…silent.  
****I have brought you…that our passions may fuse and merge…in your mind you've already succumb to me…dropped all defenses…completely succumb to me.**

**_You have brought me…to that moment where words run dry…to that moment where speech disappear into silence…silence.  
_**_**I have come here…hardly knowing the reason why…in my mind, I've already imagined our bodies entwining…defenseless and silent.**_

**And now you are here with me…no second thoughts…you've decided…decided.  
**_**And now I am here with you…no second thoughts…I've decided…decided.**_

The words seem to float around them, filling the small carriage with fire and fervor. Did they sing the words out loud? Or were the words spoken silently from their souls only to one another? Christine was startled; she often was when she realized how deep a connection she shared with her husband. Erik had a small smile on his lips, and he leaned over to touch the window once again with his cheek. Christine could only sit beside him; her hands folded neatly over her stomach, and pray that they reached their destination as soon as they could.

* * *

The carriage pulled in front of the small cottage after what felt like hours. The lurching of the stop woke Elisabeth from her sleep. She rubbed her eyes and glanced around. Erik was just getting out of the carriage; he turned to offer his hand to Christine, who, with some difficulty, managed to escape the interior of the small carriage. Elisabeth moved to the side and handed Brian to Erik. She hopped out herself. Elisabeth looked at the house as the last dying rays of the sun were evident through the trees surrounding them. It was a small, but cute cottage. It felt…like home.

"Elisabeth! Don't just stand there…come inside!"

The inside of the house was marvelous. It was spacious and inviting, and Elisabeth found herself wanting to linger in the sparkling kitchen. Apparently someone had been to the house before them during the day. There was fresh food in the kitchen, and the house was spotless. Elisabeth overheard Erik make a comment about her very thought, and Christine smiled.

"I figured it wouldn't be long before you wanted to return here…I took the liberty of asking a few favors from Stefan."

"You truly thought of everything, my dear. Is anyone hungry?"

Elisabeth nodded a response, but her stomach answered more loudly. Elisabeth turned bright red. Christine simply laughed.

"Come on, Elisabeth, you can help me in the kitchen. Erik, what do you want to do?"

"I know what I _want_ to do-" Christine blushed deeply, "-but I'll settle for my music room. Did you put Brian to bed, love?"

"I did. The poor dear couldn't keep his head up. I'll take him up some supper later. You go on and enjoy yourself, Erik. You have not touched your music in so long…and I would love to hear it."

Elisabeth saw a certain look in her brother's eyes. "Christine, I'll meet you in the kitchen."

Christine laughed, and Erik predictably grabbed her up in a warm embrace. He kissed her deeply, but Christine pulled away.

"Any more of that, and I won't be able to make it through dinner…go concentrate on your music, Erik…"

Erik pretended to be shocked and saddened by her rejection, and gave her a puppy dog look.

"No looks, Erik…go!"

Erik's laughter followed her as she fled to the kitchen. Christine arrived, breathless, and took in the form of Elisabeth. She was standing with a rather amused expression on her face.

"Is love always like that, Christine? Head over heels, love conquers all kind of thing?"

"If you're lucky, Elisabeth…and what is scary to think about is the many choices that lay on the path I chose…one wrong decision, and I might not have the love that I have now. I cannot honestly imagine my life without Erik in it…and I am so glad that he has found his family!" Suddenly, the notes of piano music filled the air. Christine recognized it at once; it was the 'Point of No Return' from Erik's _Don Juan_…Christine felt heat rise to her cheeks, and hoped that her companion did not notice.

Elisabeth smiled broadly. "I am happy he found us as well…if he hadn't saved me from those horrible men, I wouldn't be here now…he truly is a wonderful person; the best that I know!" She turned her ear toward the music room. "And apparently he is a musical genius as well! Is that one of his own pieces?"

Christine nodded, and Elisabeth squealed. "Oh, I knew it! It's wonderful…it has such emotion…what is this, Christine? It's so passionate...and complex!"

"That's just Erik's style my dear: complicated to everyone but him. He would say that it was simple from a certain point of view…how his pieces come to him is something I will never know." Christine delicately avoided telling Elisabeth what the piece was: if Erik wanted her to know about _Don Juan_, he should tell her himself.

The girls continued to gossip and learn more about each other. It was an interesting experience for Elisabeth; she had never really talked to another girl her own age before. Dinner was almost ready when Elisabeth asked the question she had been dying to ask.

"Christine, how did you and Erik…fall in love? Erik told me that he had met you at the Opera Populaire…I'm so curious! What's it like to be in love?"

Christine wiped her hands on a dishtowel. "Well…I had known Erik since I first came to the Opera House at the age of seven; my father had died and I came to live and train as a dancer. Erik came to me first as a voice teacher…after all, I was only a child, lonely from the loss of my father…but very soon, as I grew older, I began to develop feelings for my maestro. At first, I thought that the feelings were completely inappropriate…but they kept getting stronger and stronger. I knew I would have to confront them eventually, but I hoped that I could just enjoy being near Erik; I was…afraid of rejection. Then Raoul came back into my life."

Elisabeth interrupted eagerly. "The Vicomte? How do you know him?"

"We were childhood sweethearts…he became the new patron at the Opera Populaire. There was a stage accident, and the prima donna set to perform the lead in our production of Hannibal decided to storm out. I was given the opportunity to perform in her stead, to my shock and Erik's delight. He felt that it was my time to showcase the voice that we had been perfecting for so many years…Raoul saw me performing as Elissa, and he remembered me from childhood. We…I don't know how it happened, but I started to feel the old feelings return when I was with Raoul. Erik was mad…he didn't want me to see the Vicomte at all-I found out later that he was jealous."

Christine took a breath and glanced at Elisabeth; she was hanging on her every word. Christine smiled a bit to herself over her half truths, but she was at least getting the story right (for the most part).

"We started a production of the opera 'Ill Muto'…and during the opening performance there was an accident in the flies…a man was killed; he dangled above the ballerinas as they performed. It was very frightening, and I fled to the roof with Raoul…it was there that I mistook safety and brotherly protection for love…I pledge myself to Raoul; I agreed to become his wife."

Elisabeth gasped. "But what about Erik! What did he do? What happened?"

"I didn't see Erik again until three months later at a Masquerade ball. He approached me, and once again I felt the connection…He told me that I was his, heart and soul. The idea terrified me to the core; I didn't want to belong to anyone! I was confused, so very very confused. Eventually, I had to make a choice: Erik, or Raoul. At first, I…didn't know what I wanted. The emotions inside me were strange and unfamiliar. Finally, I made my choice…"

Christine smiled softly. "And I have never regretted it once. Erik is my soul-mate."

Elisabeth sighed, her head resting on her hand. "I hope to find love like that…can I ask one more thing?"

Christine gathered the food in her hands and took it to the small kitchen nook. She glanced at Elisabeth, and nodded for her question.

"Erik…behind the mask…what's it like?"

Christine glanced up at Elisabeth sharply. "You must never judge someone on appearance, Elisabeth…I have seen what lies beyond Erik's mask, and I love him all the more because of it. But you must understand that there are people in this world that are cruel; they loath what they do not understand. Erik has had a hard life, Elisabeth; one he would not wish on anyone. You will have a good life here with us…Erik has accepted you as one of his own; you will never want for anything. He will protect you…"

Elisabeth bowed her head in shame. "I know, Christine…I'm just so damn curious!"

"Curiousity is not nesessarily a bad thing...but I would say this. A word to the wise, if you will accept it: don't mention the Vicomte to Erik…they are bitter rivals, even after my choice between them. I would go so far as to say their rivalry is worse. Erik…does not want to jeopardize his position as patron because of a dispute with Raoul; by the way, Elisabeth, you handle yourself rather well today. You held your tongue before it could do too much damage. Tell me, what do you think of Raoul?"

"Bah, I care nothing for the stupid Vicomte! He was so terribly rude to Erik…he didn't deserve those comments! I got the impression that he thinks a lot of himself and his title. I'd give him a good kick if I could…"

"I'll join you in that! Maybe we can cut his hair when he's not looking." Erik had joined them in the kitchen nook, and was eyeing the food hungrily. "Let's eat!"

* * *

Christine led Elisabeth to her room. She looked around her house in dismay…suddenly, with Elisabeth and Brian staying with them, and twins on the way, the house seemed much smaller than it had with just her and Erik…_Maybe Erik will be willing to convert his office to a nursery,_ Christine thought. By the time the twins are old enough for their own rooms, Elisabeth should be on her own; married or something of that nature. They could make their little cottage work. Christine smiled as Elisabeth entered her room.

"My dear, you will have to decorate the room to your tastes…do you like it?"

"Of course! It's lovely, Christine, truly…but I must say, I don't have anything proper for tomorrow's gala…do you have something I could borrow?"

"I do, Elisabeth, but wouldn't you rather buy some things for yourself? I could speak to Erik about going shopping tomorrow…it would be great! I could show you around Paris. What do you say?"

Elisabeth lowered her eyes. "I don't have any money, Christine…I can't afford to go shopping for new clothes."

Christine waved her hand dismissively. "That's not a problem, Elisabeth; you're family now!"

Elisabeth climbed in to bed, a grateful look on her face. "Thanks, Christine…I am so glad I met you…" Elisabeth drifted off to sleep, the sheets wrapped tightly on her frame. Christine headed for the door and shut it quietly behind her.

Christine headed for her own room. She walked in, seeing the familiar room flickering in the candlelight. This was the one place where she truly felt comfortable; all false fronts and pretenses were dropped as one crossed the threshold. Christine saw the outline of her husband standing on the balcony. She sighed a bit; she had expected him in the bed asleep…

Christine started to undress, which was no easy task considering she could barely reach around to unbutton the snaps on her back. She struggled a bit more, then with relief dropped the dress to the floor. Christine's back ached; she set her hand to the small of her back. She rummaged through some drawers and came up with one of Erik's old shirts. Christine put it on and was relieved that it fit over her large stomach. Oh, how she ached! If only the pain would leave her back; then the pain in the rest of her body would be bearable! Christine surrendered to the urge to sit on her comfy bed; she had been so long at the Opera House that she had forgotten that comfortable beds actually existed. Erik came in from the night air, leaving the door open behind him.

"What were you doing out there, Erik? I though you were tired…"

Erik started to undress, eyeing Christine. "I was thinking…the night always comforts me when I have much on my mind. I am anxious about tomorrow; I don't mind telling you that the idea of people seeing my work and judging it is a bit intimidating. Normally it wouldn't bother me, but if people see this opera and they don't like it…Stefan may not want to use anymore of my works. What would we do for income? We would have to start over…" Erik finished with his clothing, standing only in his pants. He traded them for more informal cotton pants, and eyed his wife.

"My shirt looks better on you."

Christine laughed. "It's the only thing that would fit me! I didn't think to bring my clothing from the Opera House…speaking of clothing, Elisabeth doesn't have anything to wear to your premiere…can I take her shopping?"

Erik frowned. "I don't like the idea of you running around Paris by yourself; I can't go with you tomorrow because I will be needed at the Opera House…can't you loan her something, and we will go shopping another time?"

A pouting face was his answer. "Erik, it's just a little shopping! I won't go far from the Opera House…there are plenty of shops right along the same street! I want to show Elisabeth a bit of Paris. Please, love?"

Erik hesitated. "How much moving around has the doctor recommended? Didn't he tell you to take it easy?"

Christine was starting to lose her temper. "I've been stuck in the Opera House for months! I want to have fun; I want some fresh air…I want to get to know Elisabeth better."

Erik raised his eyebrow. "Anything else you want while you're demanding?"

Christine smiled. "No…" she said innocently.

They started to settle in the bed when Erik looked over his wife with a critical eye. "Christine, you are very tense! Your back…it must hurt you, love." He glanced at her with a mischievously gleam in his dancing eyes. "You'll remember what I said in the carriage? How about I start with a massage?"

"A massage? I didn't know you knew how…"

"I am a man of many talents, Madam. It is rather handy to learn a bit of everything." Erik had Christine turn to where her back faced him. Erik started at the top, working the stressed muscles. "I must keep the mother of my children comfortable…wouldn't want you to go blaming me for your discomfort…"

Christine did not response. She simply melted at Erik's touch; the soreness left as he moved his deft fingers along the fabric of her shirt. Christine moaned softly as the tension and pain disappeared. Erik stopped suddenly and leaned to whisper in Christine's ear.

"None of that now…no moans of pleasure…_yet_."

Christine distressed at the loss of his touch, and soon relaxed as he started his massage again. He was moving lower and lower…

Erik stopped again and turned Christine towards him. "Love, there's not much left I can do with that shirt on."

Christine laughed at him. She carefully took it off; she looked at him cautiously, unsure if he would still find her attractive.

Erik leaned in for a deep kiss. "Your beautiful, Angel…and you're all mine."

Christine dropped the forgotten shirt on the floor. It pooled to the floor as the candles went out, almost magically to cover the lovers in total, beautiful darkness.


	14. The Scars Remind Us

**Demons of the Past**

**Ch. 14: The Scars Remind Us**

**Author's note:** I had hoped to include Erik's opera in this chapter; but, like many things, it grew legs and ran. I didn't realize I had so much to say…but I promise that next chapter will be opening night for Erik's opera. Will the crowd love it? Will they figure out Erik's secret? Dun Dun Dun…Lol. Thanks for reading, and remember to review! Every review gets a cookie and a Punjab lasso! (if I can steal it from Erik and make mass copies…hhhmmm, I could be rich!)

_Disclaimer: My great great great great great great grandfather was Gaston Leroux! That means I own the Phantom of the Opera! (lawyer taps shoulder, holds up document that says some Native American was my six-times great grandfather…oh well. I tried, right?)_

**P.S.:** **To HoVis**- I got your review from Christine; and you are the only one to pick that little joke up! Congrats! Lol-I like it when a reader picks up the subtle twists I delicately place in my stories…glad you liked! **To: Emily**- Thank you for the baby names! It was really nice of you to think them up; I especially like the spongebob idea! Lol. I actually did some research for baby names, and I have chosen two that have special meaning. Although I have to admit that 'Erin' is a great way to combine Erik and Christine! Smartie! (grumbles angrily, asking why I didn't think of that…)**To: SonKat**: What do you think I will do? Would they work together…hmmm. I'll use Raoul's word and say 'intriguing'. You'll just have to wait and see, my friend!

**P.S. 2:** Erik sings to Christine 'I Could Not Ask For More' by Edwin McCain/Sara Evans, whichever you prefer (well, the parts that I used…I did not use the whole song)

**Tear my heart open, I sew myself shut  
****My weakness is that I care too much  
****My scars remind me that the past is real  
****I tear my heart open just to feel –Papa Roach 'Scars'**

And now, on with the story…

* * *

Christine rolled over slightly in her bed, trying to find a position that didn't hurt her back. After a few moments, she gave up to settle for the comfort of feeling her husband's steady heart beat against hers. Christine leaned her arm over to Erik's side of the bed, only to discover it empty. She sat up in alarm. Erik wasn't in their room…and the sun had yet to rise. Christine moved gingerly to the side of the bed and found a robe. She left her bedroom and started to travel the dark hallway. Christine paused at each bedroom to check on its occupants; Elisabeth and Brian were both still fast asleep. Christine tiptoed down the stairs as quietly as she could. She was halfway down when she heard faint music coming from downstairs. Christine headed straight for the music room. 

Erik was seated at his piano. His hair was mused and standing up in the back; his eyes still held the redness of weariness. Erik was maskless, but his right profile was in shadow. He looked up as Christine entered, and stopped the faint melody he was playing.

"Did I wake you, Christine?" Christine shook her head, and Erik sighed. He looked down at his hands a moment. Christine approached closer and sat with him on his piano bench.

"What are you doing up? You still look as if some sleep would do you good…" Christine touched his right cheek, and Erik nuzzled her hand.

"I had…another dream."

"Nightmare?"

"I don't know…it was strange. Normally my dreams are…in first person. I am _me_ in the dream…but this time I was seeing things from a third person's perspective. I saw the little boy, always alone…almost as if I was seeing from my mother's eyes. It was strange…"

Christine pulled Erik closer to her. "Was it the same dreams? Or was it something different?" Erik frowned, remembering his dream, trying desperately to discover why this dream was particularly disturbing to him.

"It was…I wasn't the little boy! Christine, _Brian_ was the boy…I imagined his loneliness…playing by himself, never being able to please his mother. Why, Christine? Why would my mother abandon her children? I can see why she would hate me…but why Elisabeth? Why Brian?"

Christine sighed. "Love, I don't know. Perhaps the reason why your mother abandoned you had nothing to do with your face; perhaps it had everything to do with her own insecurities and issues. Some people cannot be mothers, Erik…maybe she did not know how."

Christine touched her stomach. "It is one of many worries that plague me. What if these babies come and I can't be a mother to them? I never knew my mother…what if I don't know how?"

"We will figure it out together, Christine. I didn't exactly find a manual in my travels on how to be a father."

Christine laughed lightly. "I wonder if they come with instructions…"

Now it was Erik's turn to laugh. "I don't think a book is growing within you, Christine…it would take up too much room from the babies."

The silence fell among them. Christine spoke first:

"I talked with Elisabeth today at some length, Erik. She is a wonderful girl…she was inquisitive about so many things. She wanted to know how we fell in love." Erik's head came up quickly, but Christine smiled reassuringly. "I told her most everything…I just left out some key parts. I didn't know how much you wanted said on the subject."

Erik closed his eyes as he listened to Christine's voice. His stomach was turning…it had been bothering him all night. _Nerves,_ he thought, but it was such a sharp pain. Erik took several breaths to collect his mind. There were so many conflicting thoughts…

"Elisabeth wants to see me without the mask, Christine. I told her that there was no point, but she is adamant about it. She knows…my story, my past; she overheard my conversation with Anita. She knows I am disfigured, and yet she still wants to see my true face! And there's more…she wants to join the Opera Populaire as a chorus girl; and I am very confident that she will get it. Elisabeth will then hear the rumors…the whispers. She is a smart girl, Christine; I have no doubt she will be able to put the pieces of the puzzle together. She will learn that I was the Phantom of the Opera. My deeds still circle in the underbreaths of the dancers and singers. What do I do? Elisabeth knows me only as her brother; she knows nothing of the evil things I have done…"

Erik rose from the piano and started pacing the room. "The same questions will emerge in our own children as well! _Why can't Papa go with us to Paris? Why does Papa wear a mask?_ Christine, I can't bear it, I just can't."

He stood still in the middle of the room, a hand held protectively over his head. The silence in the room was deafening. Erik finally chanced a glance at Christine.

"Erik, you can't just confront your past. You have to move on! You have to accept it…it has made you the person you are today! My love, you are not the only one with past regrets…I became engaged to Raoul, for God's sake! I broke your heart! I took your mask off…in front of all the people in the theater during _Don Juan_. I wish I could take it back, all of it back, but I can't. I have to be honest with myself. And you have to be honest, as well. You are not the same person anymore…you are a better man because of your past."

Christine rose from her seat and came toward Erik. She moved his hands and held them over his own heart. "This is all that matters…you are the Phantom no more! You are a husband…a brother…a friend…and soon to be father." She moved his hands again to place them on her stomach. "I have no doubts, love, and neither should you. If you want to tell Elisabeth about your past, then you should. Let her hear it from you. As for our children…I hope that you will not wear your mask around them. You will be their Papa; and they will love you unconditionally. As I do…"

Erik pulled Christine close for a warm embrace. "I don't know what I would do without you, Christine. What if things had been different? What if I had never revealed myself to you as a man and not an Angel…What if you never returned to me that night, the night of my failed attempted at seduction? What if you had left me forever, never to look back…I would still be half a man, living as a ghost…or I would have died, alone and empty."

Christine glanced at him, capturing his eyes with her own firmly. "There is no 'what ifs'. Fate led us, love; we simply chose the right path. I know this: I could never be happy without you…you make my heart, soul, and song take flight."

Christine kissed him softly. "I worry about you, Erik…it's not like you to be so distressed. I am here for you, Angel…always remember that. As long as we have each other, then all else will fall into place. Have faith."

The faint rays of dawn filled the house with a warm glow. Christine and Erik climbed the staircase back to their room. Christine settled back into bed to catch a few more hours sleep, expecting her husband to do the same. Unbeknownst to her, Erik lay awake, wondering if he truly deserved the woman lying beside him.

* * *

The ride back to Paris was very enjoyable; the air was bright and warm around them as the season began to change from summer to fall. There were small dark clouds in the distance, but they hardly seemed to damper the mood in the carriage. _La Rose et la Nuit_ would be performed that night. Erik sat straight, betraying none of his nervousness but giving off a strong sense of excitement. Christine had won the argument about shopping, and Elisabeth was thrilled with the prospect of buying a new dress. As the coach pulled to a stop outside the Opera Populaire, Erik turned to Christine. 

"Now, I want you to promise me that you will stay on this street…there are plenty of shops for you to explore. Take this as well."

He handed her a rather battered looking pocket watch. "I don't have anything else…but it keeps time well enough," Erik said apologetically. "At one o'clock meet me in the stairwell of the Opera House. Please be careful, love."

"Oh Erik, stop worrying so! What could happen?" Christine smiled innocently.

"A lot could happen…you should know that better than anyone. The unexpected has a way of following you around, Christine. You have an attraction for it."

Christine sighed. "Just go! Stop being so protective…it's just shopping."

Erik looked as if he wanted to say something else, but he held his tongue. "Have a good time ladies; just keep an eye on the time."

Erik and Brian exited the carriage, leaving Elisabeth and Christine behind. Erik went to the driver and paid him what was owed, along with a little extra for wherever the girls wanted to go. He sighed a bit before grasping Brian's hand firmly. He had a bad feeling about this…

In the carriage, Elisabeth glanced at Christine nervously.

"Now what? Where do we start?"

Christine thought for a moment. "Well, I know the cutest little shop down the street; let's have the carriage drive us there, then we can walk the rest of the way."

The carriage pulled to a stop in front of a likely looking store; the girls immediately went inside.

"Can I help you?" A petite woman with violently red hair addressed them. She appeared to be an older lady; and Christine noticed that she was wearing heavy makeup. "I am Sophia, and I would be honored to serve you."

Christine nodded intently at the lady. "My sister-in-law needs a suitable gown for a gala. Do you think you can accommodate?"

Sophia scoffed slightly under her breath. "Madam, my family has made dresses for generations; I am quite sure that you will find that the style and handiwork of our dresses are second to none. Anything purchased here is guaranteed to make a simple girl transform into a shimmering goddess!" Sophia put her hand to her head in emphasize. Christine could hardly contain the giggles she was suppressing.

"Right, then. I was thinking something pale, to highlight her dark hair…or maybe something in the blue or green family to make her eyes stand out…what do you think, Elisabeth?" Christine turned to question her sister-in-law, but she was fingering fabrics on a rack. She glanced up.

"I'm sorry, did you say something? I just have never been around such extravagant clothing before…and I have no idea what to consider." Sophia sighed impatiently.

"That is what I am here for! Come, child, for I will tell you what to wear. Madam, would you like to sit down? I myself have birthed three children, and I know your discomforts well…"

"Thank you, Madam Sophia," Christine said gratefully. She sat in a chair near the front of the store as Elisabeth was taken to the back to try on clothes. Elisabeth came out a moment later.

"What about this, Christine?" The gown was red in color, and it picked up the red in her cheeks nicely. The gown was high cut with a lace choker holding the front of the dress in place. It seemed almost a tad too big; it was shapeless: offering no reveals of the curves that distinguish a woman's body from that of a man's. Christine just shook her head

"I'm sure we can do better."

Sophia stood behind Elisabeth, tutting. She finally agreed with Christine.

"No, no, no! This is all wrong…it is much too…_modest_! You are a young girl…not a sixty year old grandmother….we must try harder."

Sophia pushed Elisabeth back to the back once more. Christine propped her head on her hand. She heard Elisabeth's voice from the back of the room.

"I am not going out like this! I can't believe people wear this…"

"GO!" Sophia shoved Elisabeth in front of Christine. Her mouth dropped in surprise. Elisabeth was now dressed in a black dress; it was low cut with a high split going up the side. The arms were bare, and the skirt showed more leg than it covered up. Christine was speechless; she could hardly recognize the girl in front of her. When she found her voice, she stuttered a response.

"What is this! Is it half a dress? It looks to be something more proper for the Moulin Rouge! We are going to an opera, Madam Sophia. Oh my goodness, can you imagine if Erik saw you in that, my dear? He would strangle me…"

Elisabeth blushed. "I know! I feel silly…I don't have enough arms to cover all my skin!"

Sophia just sighed. "You are a tricky customer; but I promise that we will find the perfect dress for you…" Once again, they disappeared to the back. Christine raised a hand to her aching head. This was going to be a long day…

"Christine?"

She glanced up at her name to see Raoul peeking his head into the dress shop.

"Raoul! What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the Opera House?"

Raoul shook his head. "Your husband's exact words were: 'If you value your life you will stay out of my way on this day'. For once, I thought I should follow his instructions…what are you doing here? I thought you told me that you made your dress for the gala yourself."

Christine blushed. "I did, but Elisabeth had nothing to wear. I thought we would try this place first…Raoul, why don't you come in and join me?"

Raoul still stood on the street. "I have never entered a…woman's store before."

Christine laughed, a lovely sound in the stuffy shop. "Oh come now Raoul. It's no different than any other shop…"

Reluctantly, Raoul came into the shop. He sat in the chair beside Christine. They had a comfortable conversation; the best that they had had in a while. Christine looked up as Elisabeth called to her.

"Oh Christine! I think we have found it!"

Elisabeth entered with a huge smile on her face. She wore an elegant silver gown; the neckline was low, but revealed very little of the girl's bosom. The gown fit snuggly across Elisabeth's middle in a corset style; it then ballooned out to form a full circle skirt. Embroidered into the dress were sparkling silver ribbons. Christine heard a gasp, and was surprise that it had not come from herself. Raoul had dropped his jaw at Elisabeth's entrance. She looked a vision in the gown; it brought out all her lovely features. Raoul couldn't take his eyes off of her. Elisabeth glanced at Raoul in surprise.

"Vicomte! I did not expect you out here…how do you do?" The formality struck Raoul rather hard. Apparently, the girl held grudges. Raoul decided to play up his charm.

"I was in the neighborhood and saw Christine from the window…I must say, Elisabeth, you look absolutely amazing in that dress. It suits you, my dear."

Elisabeth blushed, but Christine frowned. "Right then, Elisabeth, why don't you go and get changed? Sophia, you were absolutely correct in your choice; we'll take it!"

Elisabeth turned to change. Christine leaned in to whisper to Raoul.

"What are you doing? You shouldn't play with her, Raoul…she has been through enough."

Raoul smirked. "I'll say…she has Erik as a brother!"

Christine just shook her head. "One day, you will know the depths of your ignorance towards my husband, and you will be sorry for all the little comments that you make on a regular basis…and you will want my forgiveness. Know that you will have it, Raoul."

Elisabeth came back in her regular clothes. Christine glanced over her. "My dear, ask Sophia to wrap up the essentials with your gown: shoes, stockings, chemise, corset…"

Christine turned to Raoul once they were alone again. "Elisabeth had a horrible childhood, Raoul…she was forced to run a household with an infant at the age of ten! Please, do not play with her as you would some toy…I know you mean well, but keep your comments civil and not so…forward."

"But what if my comments are genuine? I won't lie and say that I don't feel something for this girl…and I hardly know her! It's strange, but I want to get to know her better. I promise you, Christine, I will not harm her." Raoul looked Christine straight in the eyes, and she saw the truth there. She nodded her understanding. Raoul drifted away from Christine slightly, peering into the many jewelry displays offered in the shop.

Christine looped her arm around Elisabeth's as she returned. "How would you like to catch a bite to eat? We have time…" Christine led Elisabeth out of the store. Raoul came up behind them, straightening his already perfectly pressed jacket.

"That would be lovely! Where to?" Elisabeth's cheeks were flushed, and her hands were occupied with her packages. They were dreadfully heavy; she was therefore happy and relieved when Raoul took her burdens from her. Raoul grinned at them through the mound of packages.

"I know the perfect café. If you ladies will accompany me, I will treat you to the best lunch you've had in ages!"

* * *

Elisabeth did not know what to think of the young Vicomte sitting beside her. He was charming, or at least he thought he was. He was handsome, but it appeared that he cared a bit too much for his looks. And he definitely enjoyed being a Vicomte; the air of nobility was present around him at all times. But what was the most puzzling is that she found his company…tolerable. Ok, maybe not just tolerable. She liked how he spoke to her as an equal and not just a woman; she liked the look in his hazel eyes when he laughed. Elisabeth did not like the attraction that she was feeling for this man; he was her brother's sworn rival. If anything, Elisabeth was loyal to Erik only. 

Elisabeth was sitting across from the Vicomte at the small café he had indicated earlier. They were eating outside; and they were having a pleasant time. Christine laughed at a joke the Vicomte told, then excused herself to the powder room, leaving the Vicomte and Elisabeth alone. Elisabeth coughed a bit and lowered her eyes from his face. She took a sip of tea.

"Vicomte, how long have you been a patron at the Opera House?"

Raoul smiled. "Elisabeth, please. Call me by my given name. It is so much less formal than hearing 'Vicomte' all the time. I want us to be friends…so let us just be informal."

"All right then, de Chagny. Or is that too informal? Care to answer my question now?" Elisabeth put direct emphasizes on his last name, and Raoul laughed. Elisabeth felt rewarded, and she batted her eyes at him. Was she flirting? _Hell, no_, she thought decisively. _I'm just trying to get on his nerves._

"You are a saucy one, aren't you? Well, let's see: I have been a patron of the arts since I first came into my inheritance at the age of sixteen; I have been a patron of the Opera Populaire for almost two years now."

"Do you like it? I mean, seeing the operas, living in Paris, that sort of thing."

Raoul leaned in a bit at the table. "It has its advantages and disadvantages, I suppose. As any place does, I'm sure. But I love living in Paris…I have lived in many parts of the world, and I always seem to come back to old Paris. Tell me, Elisabeth, is this your first time to the city?"

"Yes…I have lived on the outskirts of a small village my whole life…when my mother died, I had no where to go…I felt trapped; I couldn't escape my fate. That was before…Erik saved me from a horrible existence." The slight lie rolled off Elisabeth's tongue with perfected ease.

"What do you mean, Elisabeth? What was so horrible about where you lived?"

Elisabeth just bowed her head. "I can't explain. I would care not to remember when the wound is still fresh in my heart…"

"Of course, I understand. Elisabeth, I was under the impression that Erik had no family…and now it seems as if he has developed one over night!"

Raoul felt the mistake in his words at the dead look in Elisabeth's eyes. They had been so full of warmth…even when she spoke of her past. Now they were filled with ice.

"My brother…was not wanted by my mother, Monsieur. If anything, Erik should have hated my brother and I…but he showed us compassion." Elisabeth watched carefully as the Vicomte's eyes filled in recognition. She gasped.

"You have seen behind my brother's mask!" It was no question, but a statement. "My mother…abandoned him; left him for dead. To be honest, I did not know of his existence until the night he showed up in my village. And to be frank, I don't feel comfortable talking about this anymore!"

Elisabeth shut herself off from the Vicomte. She wanted nothing more to do with him. She was therefore surprised when the Vicomte reached up and touched her face.

"I know what you went through must have been hard, Elisabeth…and your brother is indeed a great man for taking you in. I don't mean to make light of your situation; I only wanted to show you that there are others around that you can confide in. I am deeply sorry if what I have said has caused you pain…that was not my intention."

Elisabeth gazed into his eyes, feeling the angry and pain ebb away. "I know you mean well…and you can't possibly know what is a touchy subject for me and what isn't. We hardly know each other, after all. Thank you, Raoul…for talking with me."

Raoul felt his heart leap as she said his name for the first time. He was making progress! A few more well place compliments, a few stabs at conversation, and he could invite her to the gala as his guest. His personal guest. Or date, whichever you like. Unfortunately for him, Christine returned.

"My word! It looks as if it's going to storm!" No sooner had the words left her lips did the heavy rain start to fall. "Now what?"

Raoul leaned closer to the wall of the café. "We wait it out, I suppose. It shouldn't rain long."

A large bolt of lightning streaked the sky, followed by the heavy booming of thunder. Elisabeth jumped, and Raoul put his arm around her slightly.

"Maybe it would be better if we waited inside…" He steered the girls into the crowded café, leaving the covered lunch area just as another bolt marred the sky.

* * *

Erik was bent intently over the score for his opera. Reyer was standing at his side. 

"It must be a wrong note! The chord progression is completely thrown off by this one note in the bassoon section!"

Erik sighed faintly. "Monsieur, I know that's not the problem; I wrote that in myself. It's supposed to be like that…it adds an air of dissonance to the chord, and that adds a bit of mystery to it; the depth of the chord is important, especially in this piece. Have them play it again."

Reyer obliged and started up the concerto. "From number forty five please, gentleman."

Erik closed his eyes, willing himself to distinguish each individual part. His eyes flew open. "You, clarinet player! What note are you playing in the chord?"

The man answered timidly, "A c sharp, sir."

Erik grinned in triumph. "It is a concert b flat you are meant to play. Is your part wrong, or did you miss a natural sign in the measure?" The clarinet player turned bright red, and marked something on his part. Erik nodded at Reyer. "Play it again."

Reyer started up the orchestra, and this time the chord was perfect; it had just the right amount of depth. Erik glanced from his score to the members of the orchestra.

"I have only a few short comments to make, gentlemen, before you can be excused until the performance begins. There should be more vibrato in the flute solo…it is an important part, and while it is a solo, you really must try to put more feeling into it. When the other instruments accompany, please remember that you are the background, and not the main attraction. Pass off each solo gracefully; the most difficult should be from clarinet to oboe: Remember to try and hold the note in tune as the oboist takes over, Mr. Clarinet Player. Other than that, I am proud to have you as my orchestra…you have all done phenomenal work. I hope that you have enjoyed playing my music, and will want to stick around for the next one…it is much more challenging, I promise you."

The members of the orchestra laughed. The music they were playing now was challenging enough to suit their tastes…still, it was very rare to be in the presence of the composer when performing the works. It was thrilling to know that they were performing exactly as the composer wanted. The orchestra members dutifully packed their things and went to prepare for the gala, leaving Reyer and Erik alone.

"You really are a genius, Sir. I have been conducting since I was twenty years old, and I have yet to hear a piece like this one…with the exception of _Don Juan_..." Erik visibly tensed, hoping that Reyer hadn't made a connection between the two pieces. "_Don Juan_ I would say was before it's time…while the consequences of that opera were disastrous, the music was bold and rich…if not dark and dangerous. You convey many emotions through your music, Maestro…I only wish you could have heard that _Don Juan_…" Reyer's voice trailed off as he turned to study his score again. Erik walked away, pondering M. Reyer for the first time…if anyone would recognize him as the Phantom of the Opera, it would be him. _Perhaps it's time I have a small talk with him; see how much he knows…**time!**…_Erik whirled around toward Reyer again.

"Monsieur, do you have the time, perchance?"

"It is just now two o'clock, M. Massenet."

Erik felt a deep seated panic begin to rise through his body. He had lost track of time…where was his wife? He went straight to the nursery, where Brian was being kept. Brian was perfectly happy, playing with the other children his age. Erik asked the nanny if Christine or Elisabeth had come by, and the answer was in the negative. After a careful, if not frantic, search of the Opera House, Erik became aware of the horrible weather outside. _She could be stuck in the rain! I must find her!_ Erik ran to the stables and hitched a carriage to one of the horses. He stopped right before leaving the safety of the stable, gazing at the torrential rains that were waiting to embrace him. Erik's stomach turned tightly. Erik smiled sarcastically. _If I wasn't sick before, I will be after this_. He drove out into the rain, instantly becoming soaked. Erik pulled his hood securely over his head. Christine had promised him that she would stay on this street…Erik began his search, knowing that the odds were against him if she had managed to take shelter. He circled the road; in about a half an hour he had made his first complete rotation of the street. The rain had not let up at all, and he was starting to feel a chill creep into his bones. Finally, he found some luck: Erik spotted a curly head from a café window furthest from the Opera House (figures that's where they would be). He pulled the carriage up to the café, and climbed out. Erik walked into crowded shop; silence greeted him as conversations were dropped in favor of staring at the strange man in sopping wet clothing. Christine spotted him at once.

"Erik! What are you doing here!" She ran forward, pushing random people out of the way. She hugged her husband tightly, then backed away.

"Gaa, you're soaking! What have you been doing?"

Erik sighed exasperatedly. "I've been looking for you! I figured you didn't want to walk in the rain…and it shows no signs of stopping. Why don't you gather Elisabeth and we can go?" Erik was started to feel the self consciousness rise as people around him started to whisper about him. He glanced around observantly. Erik was the only one in black, and he still wore his hood over his face. He was getting many dirty looks.

"'Scuse me, Sir," a fat, balding barkeep said from behind the counter. "We have a policy about hats and hoods in the café. You'll have to take it off."

Erik stiffened. "I'll go outside, then. Sorry for the trouble." Erik found himself outside again in the rain, quite glad to be out of the café. Christine was right behind him.

"Come, I've got everyone!" Erik held the carriage door open as Christine darted out. Elisabeth followed. Erik was about to shut the door when another voice was heard.

"Hey, wait! I'm the one with all the packages!" Raoul darted out from inside the café. Erik raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Hello, Erik. Nice day, isn't it?" Erik rolled his eyes and slammed the door in response, not waiting for the Vicomte to remove his limbs from being in the way. If Erik crushed the Vicomte's leg, it would be such a pity, wouldn't it? Erik smirked. One could only hope. He drove them straight to the Opera House. Once loaded into the stable and out of the rain, Erik began to shiver uncontrollably. _I have to have power over this!_ He stopped after a bit, but knew from experience that if he didn't get warm soon, he would be fussing with a cold. _Perhaps it was already in the cards,_ he thought wearily. Erik sat in the driver's chair a moment longer, trying to compose himself. He heard the carriage door open as Raoul stepped out. He helped the ladies out of the carriage himself; for that, Erik felt the tiniest sensation of gratitude. Finally feeling a bit more stable, Erik climbed down from the carriage. Christine was at his side in an instant.

"Erik, we have to get you out of those wet clothes; you'll catch pneumonia! Raoul, will you show Elisabeth to Madam Giry's room?" Raoul nodded. Christine addressed Elisabeth. "You can get ready there, my dear. I will come to you as soon as I can."

The two pairs split off. Erik stopped just before entering the Opera House.

"I think I have water in my boots," he said. Erik pulled them off, and a large puddle of water formed at his feet. Christine gasped.

"How long where you in the rain, Erik?" Erik shook his head.

"It's not important…let's just get back to the room."

They swiftly moved through the corridors. After locking the door behind them, Christine turned to Erik, who was already peeling off his clothes. She came forward and started unbuttoning his jacket.

"Your skin is so cold!" Erik looked at her and rolled his eyes.

"Thanks. I wasn't aware that I was freezing cold…or that it was raining outside…or that you have brown hair"

Christine rolled her eyes back at him. "Any more sarcastic comments, love?"

"I think I'm good for now…" As soon as the wet clothes were off, Erik started to shake once more. Christine looked around for a towel of some kind; she finally settled for pulling the blanket off the bed. She wrapped it around her husband.

"That's better," Erik murmured as Christine rubbed his arms through the blanket. She paused as he held her close to his body.

"Thank you for finding me," Christine whispered, pulling away slightly. Erik looked into her chocolate eyes before capturing her mouth with his own. After the innocent kiss, Erik sang, softly:

**Looking in your eyes  
****Seeing all I need  
****Everything you are is everything to me  
****These are the moments  
****I'll remember all my life  
****I found all I've waited for  
****And I could not ask for more **

Erik held Christine close, feeling her warmth through the thin blanket. His wet hair dripped in his eyes, and Christine tenderly moved it back from his face. Erik started to move her slightly to him, dancing with her as he sang.

**I could not ask for more than this time together  
****I could not ask for more than this time with you  
****Every prayer has been answered  
****Every dream I had's come true  
****And right here in this moment is right where I'm meant to be  
****Here with you here with me **

**I could not ask for more than the love you give me  
****Cause it's all I've waited for  
****And I could not ask for more**

They stood, dancing still in the middle of the room, long after the music had died from Erik's lips.

**

* * *

**

Elisabeth reached Madam Giry's room. She knocked, but no one answered. Raoul walked up.

"It's all right…the lights are out. No one's there. Madam Giry must be on the stage."

Raoul pushed open the door and turned on the lights. He set Elisabeth's packages down on the bed. Raoul smiled.

"My dear, I believe my work here is done. I will see you at tonight's gala." Raoul turned to leave when he felt a small pressure on his arm.

"Thank you, Raoul…for everything. I am afraid I have acted rather childish around you. I just have to get used to Paris; I have to get used to everything. I am glad we met today…an odd coincidence has worked in our favor." Raoul inclined his head, and left without a word.

Elisabeth breathed a sigh in his absence. She felt her head clear instantly. The chiming of the clock reminded her that she had to get dressed. Elisabeth started to sort through her packages. She opened the gown first, and felt something fall to the floor. Elisabeth frowned and reached to pick it up. It was a necklace! She looked at suspiciously, not remembering purchasing such an exquisite piece of jewelry. The chain was a simply silver chain, but the charm was a brilliant emerald. It shone beautifully and reflected the light in all directions. Elisabeth held the necklace in her hand as she noticed a note fluttering to the ground.

_**Silver is your color, but green is becoming. Welcome to Paris.**_

It was signed simply: **_de Chagny._** Elisabeth felt the grin widened across her face. He really was a foolish boy, after all.

* * *

**To Mrs. Butler**: I was unaware of the 'Browns', but I assure you that the song in Ch. 8 belongs to my brother…it is where I got the song in the first place. Originally it was a poem of my brother's that I sorta changed into Erik's lullaby. I am sorry if I offended you, but I know nothing about an existing song like the one I used…thanks for the info. Do you remember the song name? I looked up the Browns on the Internet and came up with the Cleveland Browns, but I didn't really know what to search under…it is definitely a bizarre situation. If I use someone else's lyrics, I always cite my source-I DO NOT want to plagiarize…that is the worst kind of stealing for a writer. I even cited that the song wasn't mine in the first place, and I know my bro wouldn't have cared… 


	15. Let My Opera Begin

**Demons of the Past**

**Ch. 15: Let My Opera Begin! (BWAHAHA)**

**Author's note:** I couldn't decide where I could put an accurate description of Erik's opera…so I figure I would put the opera here at the beginning. I came up with the idea partly from a chapter in Leroux's _Phantom of the Opera_ entitled 'Apollo's Lyre'. The chapter had nothing to do with the God Apollo; Erik was hiding behind a statue resembling the god listening to Raoul and Christine. But inspiration strikes in strange places, I suppose. Amaranth means 'unfading flower' in Greek, so I thought it was an appropriate name. The opera is nothing special…in fact it features the same theme really as POTO itself…a love that can never be. But hey, I think it works well enough for my purposes, and since you aren't reading this story for Greek mythology, I figure you will forgive me.

_Rose et la Nuit_

**Act One: **Apollo is the lord of the sun; the sun rises and falls with the passage of his chariot across the sky. During the day he belongs to the Heavens; overseeing the expansion of his light over the appropriate mortals. But at night his twin sister Artemis takes over his duties as the lady of the moon, leaving Apollo free to his whims and lusts. Apollo falls for the young maiden Amaranth, who often comes to her garden at night to serenade her roses with sweet songs. Apollo is entranced by her beauty, and begins to slowly come to her as simply 'Night' for he only comes at the darkest part of the night. Amaranth is spellbound by her strange visitor, and begins to call him the God of the Moon.

**Act Two:** Artemis is called into council by her Amazon warriors; special chaste women warriors who do Artemis's bidding. They tell her of Amaranth and her blasphemy against the true Goddess of the Moon. Artemis flies into a rage, and goes to Amaranth in the daytime in a disguise of an old woman. Artemis asks Amaranth who rules the night, and she replies faithfully of her Voice in the Night. Artemis reveals her true self. Before Amaranth can beg forgiveness, Artemis turns her into a red rose.

**Act Three and Finale:** Apollo returns to Amaranth at night, as usual. He discovers the simple red rose in her place, and knows instantly what has happened to her. Apollo takes the rose to Mt. Olympus and demands that the god responsible come forward. Artemis realizes suddenly that the girl was beloved by her brother, and she comes forward as the guilty one, begging her brother's forgiveness and understanding. Apollo is infuriated that his sister betrayed him, and they fight a horrible war: night against day. The mortals know no sense of time on Earth; everything is swirled into confusion and darkness. Finally Apollo concedes, and forgives Artemis for the wrong she did him. Unable to undo her curse upon Amaranth, Artemis turns the rose immortal; it will never fade or wilt. Thus ends the opera, with Artemis heartbroken over her brother, Apollo heartbroken over his sister's wrath and the loss of Amaranth, and Amaranth forever trapped within the essence of a rose.

_Disclaimer: If you read the above passage, then you know that secretly hidden in the paragraph is a sentence that claims that I own the Phantom of the Opera! (j/k; I don't own POTO, and there is no such sentence above.)_

**P.S.: To Lady Skywalker** (yea star wars!)- You are dead on, my friend…and I will have so much fun writing it! EVIL LAUGH I certainly will try to keep coming with the updates…especially when I get reviews like yours that make me smile!

**P.S.2:** I did some research, and have been led to believe that Erik is a tenor…I have also heard him described as a baritone, but I read a review from a film company comparing Gerard Butler's tenor to Michael Crawford's…and therefore, in my story, Erik is a tenor. I hope that is ok with everyone.

And now, on with the story…

* * *

"I have a bad feeling about this." 

Christine turned to regard her husband. He was completely dressed for the gala: black tails, elegant red and black vest; black dress shirt. Erik would have looked amazing if he wasn't currently sitting on the bed, hunched over and staring at his feet. Christine was dressed in a ball gown she had made herself: a deep red gown that flowed across her body like silk. She sat on the bed beside her husband, carefully trying not to wrinkle her apparel, which is more than could be said for Erik.

Christine had seen his rapid mood changes before. Erik could be loving and cheerful one moment, and sullen and sadistic the next. She definitely sensed his mood now: it was dark and dreary as the day was outside. Christine knew that little she could say would ease his mood, but she had to try.

"You're just nervous, Erik…try to calm yourself. Everything will be fine." Christine put a comforting hand on her husband's shoulder, but he rose sharply at her touch.

"I know something is wrong! Something is out of place; something that could ruin the show…and I just don't know what it is! Don't try to help me by saying I'm nervous; that's the same as saying that I am imagining things or that I'm mad…because I know what I am feeling!" Erik was snarling one moment, and then his head was in his hands. "I'm sorry, Christine…I just can't shake this feeling. It could be something minutely trivial, I know. But I trust this feeling-it is not nervousness; put that from your mind immediately.

Christine was a bit taken aback by his attitude. She sighed. She had had enough of this.

"Fine, Erik. Why don't you go and check with your cast then before you go to your seat? You haven't seen them in at least two hours, isn't that right? Something terrible could have happened in that two hour gap…I'll go and fetch Elisabeth, and we will meet you in the box; and since you obviously don't want to escort us yourself, perhaps Stefan or Raoul would have the honor...seeing the cast should ease your 'feelings', don't you think?" Christine's voice dripped in sarcasm.

Erik turned, an angry look on his face. "You mock me! I don't need this…especially from you! You couldn't possibly understand."

"Why, because it's too complicated for the poor lady to understand? Does your male mind grasp concepts that I will never comprehend? You are NERVOUS! Nothing more, and nothing less. But by all means, if you mean for your wife and sister to go unescorted to their seats, then go to your cast. Find out that everything is fine, and then I will be willing to accept your apology…for the insult and the argument!"

Christine stormed through the door, leaving Erik standing in the middle of the room, a tight expression on his face._ Great, just great. I have had a bad feeling from the start, and now I have a guilty feeling to add with it! _Erik felt the sick feeling return to him as his stomach cramped uncomfortably. Erik had half a mind to follow Christine…but the uneasiness he was feeling would not leave him. He had to investigate the source. She would forgive him…after all, she knew him too well. _I don't give her enough credit_, Erik thought, as he left the room. He headed immediately for backstage.

* * *

Christine angrily made her way through the corridors to Madam Giry's room. She stopped short of the door and took several calming breaths. Christine hated to argue with Erik, but he was so bullheaded…sometimes the only thing she could do to get through to him was to yell it into his ear! _He is definitely in the dog house! He will have to make this up to me_…Christine knocked twice on the door before her. Elisabeth opened the door, revealing her new dress. She smiled broadly. 

"What do you think? Madam Giry and Meg have been helping me get dressed…"

Christine entered the room. Madam Giry was dressed in simple black, while Meg was in a stage costume. She was playing the role of the beautiful nymph Ariele; it was an important role. Ariele was the messenger between two main characters in the play. She had no speaking part; she spoke through her dance. Meg was perfect for the role, and was excited to be cast as Ariele.

"Christine you look amazing! I love your dress…Elisabeth! Show her your dilemma!" Meg spoke rapidly, her eyes shining with excitement. Christine glanced at Elisabeth, who was smiling shyly.

"Look what the Vicomte gave me," she said, a slight hint of embarrassment evident in her voice. Christine glanced down and gasped. Elisabeth held in her hand a lovely emerald necklace. Christine took it from her, admiring it in the light of the room.

"My dear, this is exquisite! I understand your dilemma…but I can tell you right now that Raoul will not accept this back, no matter how much you might demand it of him. He gave this to you freely, and he obviously wants you to have it. Raoul would be insulted if you did not wear it." Christine gave the necklace back to Elisabeth, allowing her to make the final decision. Elisabeth sighed.

"I do not want to insult Raoul…I will wear it, but I will tell him that he mustn't do this type of thing again. It is too forthcoming…for my tastes, of course."

Christine nodded. "Just enjoy the evening, Elisabeth. Enjoy everything."

Madam Giry looked around, then gazed at Christine suspiciously. "Where in the world is Erik?"

Christine grimaced. "Don't ask. We were in a bit of an argument…he should be joining us at the box."

Meg nodded enthusiastically. "What box, Christine? I'll look for you from the stage."

Christine laughed. "Why, Box Five, of course. Could we be anywhere else?"

* * *

Erik stood in the middle of a small room backstage. He had given the cast call about ten minutes before, and he now was surrounded by everyone in full costume. Erik nodded at little Meg, who walked in shutting the door behind her. That was the signal that all that were present at the Opera House were in this room. Erik cleared his throat. 

"I know this is an impromptu get together, but I wanted to wish you all luck. You have worked hard, and your efforts have shown from the start. I have no doubts that each and every one of you will do their best on stage tonight. Are there any questions or concerns? Now is the time…we have roughly a half hour before the curtain rises. Yes?"

Erik pointed to the back of the room. A woman pushed forward, and Erik recognized her instantly as Mia Manuali. She was playing the second primary female role of Artemis, the moon goddess. Mia spoke rapidly and with much distress:

"Monsieur Massenet, I have not seen Mario Romanao. He and I were supposed to meet for a brief rehearsal of our fight scene, and he never showed."

Romanao was the primary male in the opera; he played the role of Apollo, god of the sun, and twin to Artemis. In a manner of speaking, Romanao was the star of the opera.

Erik regarded Mia calmly, then turned his attention to the rest of the cast. "Has anyone seen Signor Romanao?"

Slowly the heads around Erik began to shake in the negative. Erik refused to let the panic rise inside him. "Next question: where is his understudy?" There was a murmuring wave which ran through the room.

"No, Erik…we have no understudy." Stefan was gliding toward him as the cast made room for him. "He is the only tenor…no one else had the voice. Erik, if he isn't here…"

Erik closed his eyes as the migraine attacked his head. The queasy feeling returned to him full force. "It means that the show cannot go on. We will have to cancel. Please, does anyone know where he might be?"

Mia shook her head. "Monsieur, he said nothing to me. Like I said, we were supposed to meet…what will we do?" The cast was starting to panic. After all their hard work, the opera was to be cancelled. Suddenly, a small voice perked up in the back.

"Erik! You could sing it!"

Erik stared in disbelief as Meg Giry pushed herself to the front. "Who better to play the part of Apollo than the Maestro of the opera himself? You know every line, every song, every gesture…you have to do this! You're the only one that can save the show…"

Erik started to shake his head. "No…I can't. It's impossible…"

Stefan grabbed Erik by the arm. "Are you crazy, man? I have heard you…you wrote this part yourself! You're the perfect tenor-you wrote the words and melodies after your own voice! Please…"

Erik pushed Stefan away, trying to make his way to the door. He couldn't sing…he couldn't! It was too dangerous, too exposing. It was out of the question. As he walked away, he felt the eyes of forty disappointed people. Erik stopped just before the door. _This is crazy_…but the feeling of _Don Juan_ came to Erik in full force: the feeling of freedom, of power…He could do this; he knew everything…he loved being on stage, loved the feel of it, the excitement. But the danger: what if someone recognized his voice? What would happen then? But what were the odds that anyone would recognize him? He would be in full costume, dressed as Apollo, who was in a sense the exact opposite of himself in every way. The dangers were fading from his mind as he glanced at his cast, and then at little Meg's determined face. Erik sighed. There was no other choice for him.

"All right…but there will have to be some changes, and quickly!"

* * *

Erik gathered Mia and Julia Standish, the girl playing the lead soprano role of Amaranth, the beautiful maiden that Apollo falls in love with. He spoke to them honestly and encouragingly; Erik spoke with a quiet confidence. He dismissed Julia, who would appear on stage first before Mia. Erik eyed Mia's addition to her costume: a large, overly embellished black mask, complete with feathers and sequins. It covered her face from her forehead to the tip of her nose, leaving her lips and chin exposed. Erik wore the twin in white. The masks had been left over from last year's _Bal Masque_, and luckily they were in perfect condition. 

"Remember, Mia…the goddess Artemis shows her true face to no one…even when we go for curtain calls, do not remove your mask. Be mysterious; feel like you are truly the Goddess of the Night and Maidenhood. All the men are drawn to your chaste beauty, but you are unattainable. You are a warrior…know the anger and excitement of that."

Mia nodded intently. "We can do this…you look fantastic!"

Erik was dressed in a flowing white toga and gold sandals; he had a blonde wig on his head. As Apollo, god of the sun and music, Erik embodied light. His twin was the epitome of darkness; Artemis had long black hair and wore black armor over a short dress. It seemed almost an odd role for Erik, especially since his preference had always been for the darkness. That is why this opera was one of his favorites. The plot was simple and easy to follow. Erik oddly wasn't nervous; he simply wanted to get the opera over and done with, and then kill the tenor who never showed!

Erik approached the stage and got in the makeshift chariot. The curtains were about to open…Erik could hear Reyer starting the orchestra. Erik had the opening aria in _La Rose et la Nuit. _The music reached a peak, and the curtains flew opened. _Here goes everything_, Erik thought wildly as the spotlight shone on him.

* * *

Christine seated herself in Box Five. She leaned in for a better view of the crowds below her. _My, Stefan wasn't joking when he said that we had a full house_, Christine thought in awe. Elisabeth was beside her, eyeing the Manager's Box wearily. Christine followed her gaze and found Raoul waving excitedly from his seat. He pointed to his neck, then pointed at Elisabeth and smiled. Elisabeth inclined her head elegantly, then slid down in her seat. 

"If I ignore him, will he go away?" Elisabeth murmured. Christine laughed.

"Oh come now, Elisabeth, Raoul's not that bad…I wonder where Erik is…the gala should be starting soon." At her words, the lights dimmed. Christine glanced up in alarm.

"Oh no! They are starting without him!"

"Excuse me, Madam?"

Christine turned to find a small boy standing uncertainly in the doorframe of the box. She looked at him and gestured him forward. He came towards her with a note.

"For you, Madam…"

Christine took the note, and the small boy left. Elisabeth looked in interest as Christine read the note. Her face grew red, and she passed the note to Elisabeth. It said simply, in Erik's flowing, if not hurried, script:

_**I told you so. **_

"What do you suppose he means by that?" Elisabeth eyed the note, then looked at Christine, who was staring at the stage in surprise.

"I suppose he means that!" Elisabeth followed Christine's outstretched hand. She gasped.

Standing on the stage in a grand chariot, in a blonde wig and toga, was Erik.

* * *

The opera ran smoothly. Act One continued without incident, and the audience roared their approval as a short intermission was announced. The audience was a bit confused, and rightly so; they would have two intermissions tonight: one after the first act, and one after the second. Christine rose from her seat and stretched her sore muscles. She gasped as a figured detached from the darkness and grabbed her from behind. 

"Erik!"

Christine was breathless as she pulled away from his arms. Erik was still in full costume. Christine smirked a bit.

"My, my, Erik…I didn't know that you thought so much of yourself…I mean, you're a god!"

Erik laughed low in his throat. "Very funny, Christine…I told you something was wrong. Turns out that my leading tenor didn't show up."

Elisabeth turned in her chair to look at Erik. "You are wonderful! Your voice…and your opera! It's so good!"

Erik inclined his head. "Thank you, my dear. Stand up and let me see you! You look beautiful, Elisabeth…like an angel."

Elisabeth blushed. "Thank you, Erik." Erik leaned forward a bit.

"What's this?" He fingered the delicate necklace around Elisabeth's neck.

"Oh, it's nothing! It's just a small gift, is all…" Christine groaned inwardly. Elisabeth was obviously not good at lying…and her effort to detract attention from the necklace only focused Erik's attention more.

"It is a rather fine gift for you to consider it so small…who gave it to you, Elisabeth?"

Elisabeth lowered her head and grumbled. "Pardon me? I didn't hear you."

"I said, the Vicomte gave it to me as a welcoming present."

Christine watched her husband carefully. His face was still fully masked, but the burn in his eyes was telltale. "Ah…I see. Have you become friendly with the Vicomte?"

"No, not really…and what does it matter if I do? He seems nice enough…" Christine was proud that Elisabeth had stood her ground. "Brother, I know how you feel about the Vicomte…and believe me, I trust your judgment more than I do my own in the matter. But I warn you…do not forbid me to do anything. You are my brother, not my keeper."

Erik's eyes softened. "I would never do such a thing…I am just weary of a suitor who gives such a gift to a young lady such as yourself he has known for but two days. I just worry for you, Elisabeth."

Elisabeth touched Erik's arm lightly. "I trust you, Erik. I would never stand against you; not now, after all you have done for me. Raoul is a friend; nothing more."

Erik sighed, and nodded. "I do not ask for reassurance, although I am happy to take what you have offered." Elisabeth hugged Erik fiercely.

"I love you, brother…I would never do anything to harm you."

Erik was quite shocked to hear Elisabeth say those words, and was even more shocked to hear, from his own mouth:

"I love you too, little one."

Christine watched the moment, feeling out of place. Elisabeth released Erik and scuttled back to her seat. Erik smiled as she turned to face him.

"Elisabeth, if you would be so kind as to turn around?"

Elisabeth complied without knowing the reason why. She heard a brief rustle, and she turned abruptly around again. Erik had changed from his elaborate costumed mask to a simple half black mask. He glanced at Elisabeth wearily.

"You tried to peek…that is never nice manners, Elisabeth."

Christine, noticing the guilty look in Elisabeth's eyes, changed the subject. "Are you going to stay up here for Act Two? I know that Apollo does not appear in that Act…"

Erik nodded. "I figured I could enjoy the opera better if I was here with you, basking in the fact that I was right and you were wrong…it will make my viewing experience so much better."

Christine hit him on the arm. "You are so childish! Grow up!"

Erik chuckled and kissed her deeply. "I'm sorry we fought, Christine."

Christine's eyes softened. "And I'm sorry that I didn't believe your intuition. I am very glad that you went to check everything; if you hadn't, then the opera would have been ruined!"

"Let's not think about that…" The lights blinked on and off. "Let's just enjoy the spectacle around us."

In the middle of the second Act, a messenger came with a note for Erik. The missing tenor had returned, and was ready for placement in Act Three. Erik rose from his seat.

"I had better go…I _am_ wearing his costume. Enjoy the rest of the show, ladies. I will come later for you."

Erik turned his back on Christine and Elisabeth and slipped on Apollo's mask. He made his way through the corridors, and luckily he was not spotted by anyone else. Erik knocked politely on the tenor's dressing room door, waited five seconds, and barged right in. Romanao was standing shakily by the wall, one hand resting on a chair to support himself. Stefan was already in the room, and he was in a right state.

"You're drunk! You insufferable ass! How could you, on opening night! You are fired, Signor, fired!

Romanao shrugged apologetically. "I am not drunk! I can do the opera!" To demonstrate his point, he pushed off from the wall and walked toward Erik. He promptly fell against Erik, who pushed him violently away.

"Get off me, filth! You heard the manager…you're fired! Leave this opera house immediately, before I call the guards!" Erik's voice was low and dangerous, and Romanao blinked in surprise as he recognized what Erik was wearing. He rose shakily to his feet.

"You replaced me! You went on in my place…this is an outrage! I will not stand for this insult!" Romanao's knees buckled, and his face met the floor with a loud crack. Erik and Stefan glanced at one another, then looked at Romanao. He was bleeding greatly from his nose. Erik sighed.

"We will have to escort him out, Stefan…I can finish the final Act, if that is your wish."

Stefan nodded. "We don't have a choice, Erik…and you're doing so well anyway! Please, continue, my friend."

Stefan left Erik to fetch guards to drag Romanao's carcass out of the Opera House. Erik stood for a moment, controlling his erratic breathing. He was surprised to find himself shaking. Erik's head was spinning…he didn't understand why he suddenly felt so unwell. He had to perform…but all he wanted to do was crawl into a warm bed somewhere. Erik shook the feeling off. He could control himself…he was a master at that. Erik looked into the elaborate mirror. He adjusted his costume, then headed for the stage. _Just one more Act,_ he thought feverishly.

* * *

Erik was burning up. He had never felt so hot in his life. The bright spotlights of the stage were upon him, and sweat poured down his face behind the mask. The dizzying lights blinded him from the audience; he didn't even have the comfort of looking at Christine. The end of the Opera was close…Erik had but a few lines left to sing. He took a step toward Artemis, holding the enchanted rose tightly within his grasp. His steps faltered a bit, and then the unthinkable happened. 

His voice…it died within his throat. Erik could not sing the final line of the Opera…his throat constricted and twisted. Erik's eyes widened in shock and disbelief. The audience awaited with baited breath, unaware of the problem on stage. Mia's eyes were huge as she thought desperately of a way to help her unlikely co-star. She came towards him and wrapped her arms around his body from behind. Mia pressed gently against his chest, coaxing the notes from him. Finally, Erik felt the air flood through his lungs and throat again, and he sang the last line…to his ears the notes sounded raw and distorted, but luckily his voice was drowned in the applause of the audience. The curtain closed, but it hardly dampened the sound of the thunderous applause. Erik could hardly breathe; the heat around him was stifling. He started to walk off the stage when he was met by the other actors.

"Curtain call," whispered Mia. "Then you can escape."

The curtain rose, and everyone bowed deeply. Roses were thrown onto the stage, and Erik couldn't help but smile broadly. After what seemed an eternity, the curtains finally closed again. Erik began to walk slowly through the crowds, nodding when he could at people wishing him congratulations. It seemed an effort just to walk and breathe at the same time, and he found himself pulling at his mask. Erik dared not remove it, but he so desperately needed air. He had almost turned the corner of the long corridor when he heard Stefan calling his name.

"Erik! Erik, my friend! You're a genius! Come here, come here, we need to celebrate!"

Erik knew that if he turned he would not be able to control his legs anymore; they felt like lead. He continued, finally turning the corner to an empty corridor. He was alone…Erik leaned gratefully against the wall. _Just until my head quits pounding…then I'll go and find Christine... _

He felt a cold hand against his hot flesh.

"Erik? Are you all right? What's wrong, man?" The voice seemed to be coming from far away. All Erik was aware of was the burning pain in his head…and the horrible pain in his stomach. He tried to move from the wall, but he faltered, falling to his knees.

"Erik! Erik, can you hear me!"

"Breathe…I can't breathe…" Erik's normal voice was broken and raw; Stefan could hardly recognize it. Erik started clawing at his face, at his mask. If he could just get it off, then he would feel better. Erik didn't care if anyone saw…he would die if he didn't get the mask off!

"Raoul, help me get him into his bedroom! He's sick…he's burning with fever. Help me, man…then go find Christine."

"Christine…" Erik repeated softly. He felt two pairs of hands guide him from his knees to rise slowly.

"Erik, it's all right…we're almost there." Raoul and Stefan led Erik through the doorway of the room he shared with Christine. Stefan guided him to the bed. Erik started clawing at his mask, and managed to rip it off. Raoul had seen the frightening visage before, but Stefan was taken aback. Raoul grasp Stefan firmly by the arm.

"I will go for Christine…don't let him know you have seen him. I know it's a sight…but he is just a man. Don't let him know that you have seen him…" Raoul's voice was strangely calm, and he felt the deep seated pity return for his rival. No matter how much he hated him, Raoul could not imagine the type of life he had had to endure all because of a deformity. Raoul left swiftly, leaving Erik and Stefan alone.

Stefan came closer to Erik, who was lying motionless on the bed. He seemed to be asleep. Sweat was pouring from his face, and he was gasping for breath. Stefan inspected the horror that was his patron's right profile and winced at the sight. The flesh was raw and reddish; it was twisted and distorted into bumps and crevices across his face. The eye socket was deformed, and flesh protruded and hung loosely from his eye. Stefan could see the blood vessels traveling across his right side; he could see the bright pulsating blood as it traveled through them.

"Christine…Christine," Erik murmured softly to himself. "So cold…so cold…" Stefan looked at Erik in shock, and realized that of course he would be cold: he had a high fever. Stefan did the best he could to cover him with the sheets from the bed. He glanced around the room and noticed a vase of flowers on the dresser in the corner of the room. He emptied the flowers, then dumped the water in a rag. Stefan put the rag on Erik's burning forehead. Erik quieted and said no more. Stefan looked away, ashamed that he could no longer bear tolook at Erik's face…

* * *

(Occurring at the same time as above events) 

Christine watched as her husband entered the stage for the final moments of his Opera. She admired him from her seat; he truly was handsome. Christine took in the audience for a moment. They were hanging onto to Erik's every word; their eyes followed him as he walked across the stage. Erik was in his element: the world of music that he himself had cultivated for so long in secret and seclusion. Christine turned her eyes back to Erik, and was surprised to see him take a misstep. He opened his mouth to sing…and no words came out. The audience did not know that something was amiss; but Christine had never heard Erik miss a cue or entrance before. Something was wrong…Christine's eyes narrowed as she studied her husband's masked face. The eyes…Erik was truly frightened and shocked. Christine had half risen in her seat. Elisabeth tore her eyes from the stage to glance at her.

"Christine, is something wrong?"

"I don't know…" She watched as Artemis crossed the stage to hug Erik hard against his chest. The words finally emerged, but they were not in the melodious, angelic voice that was the voice of her Angel of Music; Erik sang as if his throat had ripped in two. The crowd applauded and stood to their feet in an instance, roaring their approval of Erik's opera. Christine felt the pride rush through her body. He had done it! Everyone loved his work! Christine saw the curtain rise again, revealing all the players. Christine rose to her feet along with everyone else. She glanced at Raoul and Stefan and discovered that their box was already empty. As the curtain closed again, the crowds below started to dissipate. Christine took to her seat again. She glanced at Elisabeth.

"What did you think, my dear? Was the opera to your taste?"

Elisabeth's eyes were bright. "It makes me want to sing here even more! Erik was simply perfect…do you think the audience noticed the change in tenors?"

Christine shook her head. "I don't know, but he was definitely the star of the show…the audience was captivated every time he opened his mouth, or every time he moved across the stage."

"I am anxious to see him…when do you think he will come for us?"

Christine shrugged. "I don't know…anytime now." On cue, a figure burst through the doorway. It was Raoul.

"Christine, Erik is sick. Please, come with me…he is asking for you."

Christine rose from her seat frantically. "Sick! Is it a fever?"

Raoul shook his head. "I know not. Stefan is with him."

"Take me to him."

Raoul led the way swiftly. Christine entered the room, Elisabeth right behind her. Raoul grabbed her hand.

"No, Elisabeth. Stay here with me."

She pushed at Raoul angrily. "Let me go! I want to see my brother!" Raoul looked at her, then hooked his arm through hers.

"You would just be in the way…come on, I want to show you something."

Elisabeth refused to budge. "You are a fool if you think I am leaving my brother!" She pulled her arm out of his, and started to open the door. Raoul pushed the door closed.

"Have you ever seen your brother without his mask?"

Elisabeth was taken aback by the question. "What difference does that make now!"

Raoul sighed. "Just answer my question!"

"No, I have not! He doesn't want me to see…now move!"

Raoul refused. "My dear…Erik is sick…he doesn't have his mask on now. I know that if he has not let you see him before, he will not be happy if he discovers that you saw him in his fit of fever. Trust me…just come with me!"

Elisabeth now wanted more than ever to enter the room where her brother was…she wanted to see what laid beyond the mask. But she could also see the wisdom in Raoul's words. Finally, she succumbed. "All right…but let's go and check on Brian first…I have a feeling we will be staying the night here.

* * *

Christine approached the bed, relieving Stefan of the chair he was sitting in. Stefan had been staring blankly ahead. Erik had not moved, but his face was still red and hot to the touch. 

"Stefan, go. You have an afterparty to enjoy…just tell the cast how proud Erik was to be able to perform with them tonight. I can take care of him from this point."

Stefan nodded stiffly. Christine looked at him in understanding.

"Now you know why he hides behind his mask…people will not accept him, merely because of the way he looks. You are his friend…please tell me that you do not think less of him because of his face."

Stefan dropped his shoulders. "I feel ashamed…I do not think less of him, Christine…but I do pity him. I pity all the things that he must have had to go through. I am sorry."

Christine nodded sadly. "It's all right, Stefan. Please go and enjoy your party."

Stefan left, his head hanging low. Christine touched a hand to her husband's face. He stirred and opened his eyes. Erik stared with unfocused eyes, but he smiled when he recognized Christine's face.

"Christine…I feel like I've been run over by a carriage, and I want them to back up and finish the job! I'm freezing!" He tried to pull covers up over his body, but Christine stopped him.

"Angel, you're still in costume. Let's get you changed, then I'll go for the doctor."

Erik pulled away. "I won't see a doctor. I just have a cold…Marie has some of my medicine…I'll take that." Erik's voice was low, and Christine could tell that it hurt him to speak. She kissed his hot forehead. "I never get sick…I hate this…"

"It is not surprising that you're sick! You have been under a tremendous amount of pressure and stress, not to mention that you rode in the rain today!" Erik sighed, and turned an interesting shade of green. He leaned over to the side of the bed and emptied the contents of his stomach. Erik continued to shake as his body expelled everything from his system. Christine held his shoulders, stroking his hair to keep it out of his face. He finally stopped, and leaned back in the bed.

"I'm sorry…" Erik said weakly.

"Don't worry about it…I'll clean it up and get something for you to do that in for next time."

"Uhhh, I don't want a next time!"

After Christine got the mess cleaned up and handed Erik a bedpan, she went to find Madam Giry. She found her talking to her ballerinas in one of the hallways. Christine waited until they were dismissed, but Madam Giry saw Christine first and waved the girls away.

"Christine! I thought you would be at the afterparty…where is Erik? He was simply wonderful tonight, although I cannot tell you how shocked I was to find him out there…" Christine nodded her head automatically.

"Madam Giry, Erik is sick…I don't know how he was able to perform at all! He said that you had some of his 'medicine'. Do you know what he is talking about?"

Madam Giry inclined her head. "I think so. Come with me."

They went down the corridor, dodging the various people who were partying in the halls. Madam Giry opened the door.

"Erik has always made his own medicines…he is quite talented. The idea of a doctor is laughable to him; Erik knows more about medicine and the human body than most anyone. What are his symptoms?"

Christine told in detail. Madam Giry murmured to herself, then picked up two bottles. "These should do it! Have him take these…he'll know what they are. I think one is going to make him sleep." Madam Giry handed Christine the bottles. "It is such a shame for him to get sick in his moment of triumph…he saved the opera, and everyone loved him! Give him a kiss for me, dear. And don't worry about Elisabeth and Brian…I'll take care of them."

Christine left and returned to Erik, and was surprised to see him out of bed. She came toward him.

"Angel, what are you doing out of bed?"

Erik grimaced. "I hate just lying there…besides, if you have the medicine, I should be fine soon…it was just the heat under the lights! I was scorching and I felt as if I couldn't breathe." Christine handed him the medicine, and he downed them both in two big gulps.

"Damn! I should really make this stuff taste better," Erik said wincing slightly. Erik's face darkened. "Christine, I wasn't wearing my mask when I woke up…what happened to it?"

"Raoul said that you took it off when you first entered this room…I don't think you knew what you were doing, love." Erik narrowed his eyes.

"Who was in the room?"

Christine hesitated. "Stefan."

Erik sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. His head was still pounding. Erik closed his eyes, not wanting to look at Christine's face. "What…"

Christine sat beside him. "It's fine, love…what, did you think that he had run away screaming? He is your friend…he wouldn't do that to you! You were sick…Stefan was trying to help you."

"I know…I know. I don't think we can make it home tonight. We'll stay here the night…then we can go home." Another thought entered Erik's mind. "How is Elisabeth? Did she like the show?

"She loved it, Angel…and right now she is with Raoul."

Erik growled low in his throat. He started pacing the room. "So help me, I am going to strangle that man! What business does he have messing around with my sixteen year old sister! The Vicomte and I are going to have a chat, and I am afraid he will not like the outcome." Erik stopped his movement frantically as he located the bedpan. He vomited violently. When the heaving stopped, he glanced at Christine.

"See! I get sick just thinking about the fop!"

Christine glared at him. "Raoul stopped Elisabeth from entering the room, Erik…while you were asleep on the bed, with no mask on! He knew you weren't concealed, and knew that you didn't want Elisabeth to see! Raoul was trying to help…and Elisabeth can make her own decisions about Raoul. She has a good head on her shoulders; she will do what she thinks is best. If you tell her not to see Raoul, you are just as surely giving her the incentive to do it."

"How do you know that?"

"Because Elisabeth is just like you! Bullheaded! What about all those times that Raoul tried to hide me away from you? Or the times when I didn't want to see you...you always were there. Nothing could stop you."

Erik smirked through the queasy look on his face. "I guess you have a point...I always did like a challenge."

Christine nodded. "Exactly. You can't do much about this, Erik. Just trust in Elisabeth."

Erik closed his eyes, willing the room to stop spinning around him. "I'm still going to have a little talk with the Vicomte…what if his intentions are to use her as a means to get to me? What if he plays with her heart to merely see me tortured?"

"Raoul would not do that, Erik. He is honorable."

"Oh yeah, real honorable. He barged in on us yesterday morning! You could have been nude!" Erik's eyes burned with fever and rage. "Oh, and if he had seen you as such…I would have killed him where he stood."

"Oh Erik! You're sick…you don't know what your saying."

Erik felt the bile rise through his throat, and found himself heaving again. "Damn! I hate this! I had that bad feeling all day today…and now I'm sick! It doesn't end for me…it will never end." Finally, the fit of dry heaves was over. Erik found himself too weak to walk or stand anymore. Christine guided him to the bed.

"What did happen to the tenor, Erik?"

Erik laughed, short and sharp. "He showed up drunk…and that one foolish act on his part creates so many problems! The next performance is a fortnight from now; we either find another tenor or I have to perform again."

"Would that be so bad?"

Erik shook his head. "No, I suppose it wouldn't be. I love being on stage…if only you were with me…as Amaranth…it would…have been…perfect." Erik's voice trailed off as sleep took over. He crawled into the bed, and Christine pulled the covers tightly against him. She turned to leave when Erik snaked his hand to catch her wrist.

"Don't leave me…"

Christine climbed into the bed with him, and held him gently as he drifted to a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Raoul grasped Elisabeth's hand firmly as he led her up the many ladders to the roof. Elisabeth was starting to protest. 

"Raoul! It's late…where in the world are you taking me?"

"You'll see…and don't worry, we'll be back in plenty of time for the party."

Raoul finally reached the last door. "All right, close your eyes."

"I will do no such thing!"

"Come on…please?"

"No!"

"You're spoiling the fun! Trust me!"

Elisabeth sighed. "Oh, all right…"

Raoul glanced at Elisabeth, and led her through the door way. The night was a bit chilly, and Elisabeth shivered in her gown.

"Are we outside? It's freezing out here!"

Raoul led her to the edge of the roof. "Open your eyes."

Elisabeth gasped. "Oh my gosh! This is so beautiful! All of Paris, from a bird's eye view! Oh, Raoul…thank you for showing me this."

Raoul nodded. "You need to see the beauty of Paris…although it is nothing compared to your own."

Elisabeth blushed. "Why would you say such a thing? I'm just a girl…"

"I only speak the truth, Elisabeth…I see that your wearing the necklace I gave you."

Elisabeth touched it delicately. "Thank you for this, Raoul. You shouldn't have."

"I wanted to…you deserve something as delicate and lovely as you." Elisabeth shivered a bit. Raoul took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

"Thank you," Elisabeth said, as the warmth of the jacket spread through her body. "You know, it's always beautiful after rain…"

"It is indeed…what do you like most about Paris so far, Elisabeth?" She gazed out at the beautiful Paris skyline and smiled.

"The people I've met…they have all been so wonderful to me. Madam Giry had really made me feel at home at the Opera House, and Meg is so sweet! I can see us becoming good friends…and of course Christine! She is truly amazing. She is so open and honest; it is quite refreshing to talk to someone with nothing to hide. You know, I never was around many people in my village; there was a few that I talked to but I didn't make many friends. I think I have made more friends in the two days I have been here than any other time in my life!"

Raoul nodded wistfully, noticing that he wasn't in that group. "Elisabeth, if you don't mind my asking…you seem a bit standoffish towards me. Have I done something to offend you?"

"No, Raoul…it's just that I don't know you very well." Raoul could tell there was more.

"And?" he prompted gently.

"Please don't take this the wrong way, Raoul…but my brother dislikes you. And right now, I trust his feelings more than my own. I understand that you both vied for Christine's affections; that is enough to make any man an enemy. But still…I just don't know you well enough, that is all."

Raoul was, to say the least, crushed. Once again his rival had foiled him, and this time he wasn't even aware of it!

"How can I prove to you that I am a noble man with noble intentions?"

Elisabeth smiled. "You could start by ceasing the gifts and flirtations. What kind of girl would I be if I swooned every time you walked by? Just treat me like a person, Raoul. Be someone I can talk to…then I can judge for myself what kind of man you are."

Raoul nodded. "You are right, of course. I have been much too forward with you. One moment I'm biting your head off in the Manager's Box, and the next I'm buying you a necklace! I just…really want to get to know you, Elisabeth. As a gentleman, of course. And the first thing a gentleman would say is that it is much too cold for a lady such as yourself to be outside! Let's get you back inside…there's still a party going on downstairs! If you want, we can stop and check on your brother."

Raoul offered Elisabeth his arm. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, then took it. They walked together from the roof and headed for the grand celebration in Erik's honor. _Since he can't attend, I should have twice as much fun to honor him_, Elisabeth thought happily as Meg grabbed her arm to introduce her to people. Elisabeth spent the rest of the night meeting new people, dancing, and having a great time. The night disappeared into day as finally the time of Erik's first gala came to a close. And as for Erik? He spent the rest of the night violently ill, catching up on the undo stress he had put on his body. Erik vowed never to become sick again!

* * *

**Author's note 2:** Holy beans! This chapter is nineteen pages in Microsoft word…and over seven thousand words. This is, by far, the most I have written for a chapter. I hope that you have enjoyed reading about Erik's Opera. And poor Erik! Well, maybe it worked out for the best. He wouldn't have liked the party anyway…LOVE YA'LL Please Review! 

**To Emily:** To answer your questions in order: 1. We are not talking about the same smartie…although I am rather fond of the candies myself. 2. What do you think? Wouldn't it ruin the surprise if I said anything? 3. I like that song (the Edwin McCain version, just not into country all that much); I heard it on the radio while in the middle of writing Ch. 14 and it sorta fit. 4. The twins will be along soon…After this chapter the story will skip forward a few months (probably; I won't swear on my dog's life). 5. I can't tell you…but I will say that one of the twins will be named after a pre-existing character (dead or alive I cannot say). 6. No you did not annoy me with your questions; in fact, I enjoyed answering them. And I will update soon, because I do not want you and your Mr. Monkey to cry. I will send you some bananas and chocolate. Or maybe I won't…since from your review you seemed a tiny tiny tiny bit hyper; perhaps no sugar for you!


	16. The Morning After Surprises

**Demons of the Past**

**Ch. 16: The Morning After Surprises**

**Author's note: **The first part may surprise some, butall of ya'll are pretty savvy, so you'll forgive me for treading off the beaten path for a small bit. I know that I said last chapter that I would skip ahead, but I lied. I'm sorry, but I'm not ready for the twins quite yet…I used an aria from a Giuseppe Verdi opera entitled _Il Trovatore_. I liked the aria…English translation will be at the bottom so it doesn't ruin the effect I want. It is rather lovely…once again, I'm borrowing from the genius that is Verdi. I also should say that I am super pleased that everyone likes the idea of Raoul and Elisabeth…it does have an air of 'this should never happen but then it does', doesn't it? You all will just have to wait and see…

**P.S.: To Lin**: My friend, it is good to hear from you again! I am so glad to hear that your vacation is going well. I remind you to stay safe and enjoy yourself twice as much (enough for me to have fun too). I have made your suggested corrections in the chapters; I HATE typos…but I have a way of collecting them, I'd say. It means a lot to me that you like the direction I am taking my story; but I can promise you that there are still dark clouds on the horizon for our favorite couple…Thank you for your reviews, and I hope to talk to you again soon. Love and Hugs, Amber

_Disclaimer: I really am running out of unique things to say, so I'll just speak plain: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera._

And now, on with the story…

* * *

Ferrand Reyer carefully put his old iron key into his front door. His house was just a mere ten minute walk from the Opera Populaire. Reyer lived in a well-to-do neighborhood, surrounded by beautiful homes and shops; riffraff were kept off the street by an alarming police presence. But when his wife died…and when he had suffered that first heart problem…Reyer began to feel how empty the house truly was. It was large; it had more than fit the needs of his family. Reyer had three children... but only one son remained among the living. Reyer's only daughter had died in a fire that had claimed not only her life, but that of her husband…and Reyer's only grandson. The loss had hit his wife hard…but when they lost their oldest boy to tuberculosis, his poor wife wouldn't leave the house for a year. She never fully recovered…and truth be told, neither had Reyer. The loss of his children was indescribable; no parent should see their own children put in the ground before them. After his oldest son had died, Reyer threw himself into his work. His wife had begged him to cut back; going so far as to suggest retirement. Bah. He could not retire; no, he loved his job. Music was his life, had always been his life. She had needed him to be there for her…but Reyer had not been strong enough to help her. He could not face his own pain... the guilt that perhaps something could have been done to prevent the death of his children. With his wife dead…Reyer had been consumed by his music, and his pain. He worked furiously now, regardless of age. Most of his income went to the outrageous sums he was forced to pay to the herbalist. Sometimes Reyer wondered if the old witch wasn't just giving him compacted sugar for heart medicine, but he had no choice. The night was black around him, and as a result, Reyer kept glancing over his shoulder to keep a close watch on the people around him. There were very few…but one could never be too careful. Reyer shuffled into his home as fast as his age-deteriorated bones would let him and locked the door securely behind him. He followed his tradition of setting his scores down and making himself a stiff drink. Reyer cradled the drink before collapsing into a large armchair. 

Reyer thought about the opera…and the young man who had replaced the tenor Romanao…He had known something was different about Maestro Massenet, but he could never precisely place it. Up until today Reyer had never so much as met him face to face; Massenet's instructions had always come from Stefan. Reyer had practiced Massenet's music diligently, feeling the vague, almost unattainable feeling of déjà vu. The music was something he had never played before…he had never heard anything like it. But when that masked man had approached him and introduced himself as 'Erik Massenet', Reyer began to untangle the deep thoughts swirling in his head. Everything fell into place, however, when Reyer heard him sing on the stage. The opera…_Don Juan_…the hypnotic, melodious tenor…the strange man in a mask…it all pointed to one thing…Erik Massenet was the Opera Ghost; the Phantom of the Opera.

Reyer swirled his drink as he contemplated his discovery. Massenet was married to Christine Daae…that was part of the puzzle as well. Was she forced to marry him? But then why was the Vicomte so accepting? Reyer knew without a doubt that the Vicomte knew exactly who Massenet was…the question was why had he not turned Massenet in? He had killed…he had kept the whole of the Opera House in terror for years…and yet, what of the times when Reyer had struggled so hard against a particular piece, knowing something was wrong…Reyer would purposefully leave it out on the main conductor's stand; the next morning there would be a small correction, written in blood red ink. Reyer had always respected the Opera Ghost because of his obvious genius when it came to music…a point that was proven when Reyer had been forced to rehearse _Don Juan_. Massenet certainly did not act like the Opera Ghost now…and Reyer was sure that Miss Daae was truly in love with him. Could such a person find redemption?

Reyer's faith told him that redemption was possible for all those who repent and truly try to atone for their misdeeds…but didn't his faith also teach tolerance? All men and women were children of God…all created in His supreme image. And yet, Massenet had hidden himself from the world, finding no acceptance or tolerance. Reyer had seen Massenet's face when young Daae removed his mask at the peak of his passion play for her…and it was horrible. Reyer could only imagine the pain and torment a child would have to endure with such a face, but a life as an adult…Reyer would imagine that drowning the child when it was born would have been a better fate than to let it suffer the world's indignation and fear.

Reyer sighed as he took a long sip from his liquor. There was no denying that Massenet was a musical genius; his compositions spoke more truth than words. Reyer himself had long ago composed…but after the death of his wife he found his inspiration lacking. Reyer coughed, a deep chest rattling cough that had begun to escalate ever so slightly. He was nearing his seventy fifth year of life…his wife had not lived to see fifty. His fault…it had been his fault she had died. Reyer felt the familiar guilt rise through him. He had been so busy at the Opera Populaire…he never noticed how much trouble she was having getting around. She tried to tell him…the maid tried to tell him…but he could not be bothered, not with music to perform. Reyer had returned one night to find his wife crumpled on the floor by the stairs…she had fallen…the doctor had said that death was instantaneous. She had broken her neck, and Reyer played her funeral requiem as they lowered her to the ground. The guilt was nothing compared to the pain of knowing that had he been there…had he helped her…she would still be with him. Redemption was not possible for one such as him…especially since he had pushed his only family away. His only remaining son…the baby of the family. He had loved his mother deeply…and he blamed his father adamantly for her death. Reyer closed his eyes as he remembered their last meeting…it had been in the very room he sat now. Reyer's son had yelled, screamed, kicked, lashed out; the torment in his eyes were enough to know that to his only son, only family, Reyer was as dead as his mother was. He had not spoken to Reyer since. It was ironic enough that he followed in his father's footsteps…he himself was a composer, conductor…Reyer had not seen him in over twenty years. How could redemption exist for one such as him? Reyer had killed his family…then pushed the only remaining member away. Redemption…Reyer didn't want it; nor did he think he deserved it.

Reyer finished the alcohol. Maybe there was redemption for Massenet. Maybe he had found the peace that had been denied him. Reyer would not tell a soul of the Opera Ghost's presence among them…for he truly was gone. The black and angry spirit was gone; and besides…Reyer did not want to ruin Massenet's chance for a new beginning. Reyer would show him compassion and understanding…

Suddenly inspired for the first time since his wife's death, he opened the lid of an old desk in the back of the room. Dust coated the outside, indicating the obvious disuse of the desk, but Reyer ignored it. He sat in the straight backed chair and began to pen a few notes and phrases down on the page. It was not an opera…but it was enough. He would show Massenet the tolerance and acceptance that could be found in the world…and maybe, through Reyer's deeds, he would find his own redemption. Reyer sealed the sheet music with a wax seal and addressed it to Massenet. He sat a moment longer, and finally decided to pen a letter to his son. Foolish pride would not be a reason any longer for their separation. Reyer poured all his feelings into the letter…as he did with his song. He feared he was not quite as eloquent in words as he was in musical notes, but the message came across clear enough. Reyer wanted his son back…he rose from the chair, feeling drained for the first time in his life; not tired, or weary, but drained of every bottled emotion. Reyer walked resignedly to his bedroom. He hummed the simple rhythm he had just created, hoping that Massenet would give it the justice that he knew it deserved. Massenet's pain…Reyer's pain…his departed wife's pain…his estranged son's pain…pain was pain; it was all the same. Reyer certainly knew pain, knew pity, knew loneliness, knew isolation…all he could hope for was that one day, he and his sweet wife would be reunited; his children would be waiting for him; he could play with his grandson again, teach him how to play the violin…Reyer wanted his family so bad…he could almost feel his wife's touch, or hear his daughter laugh, or feel the laughter welling inside him at one of his son's jokes. But did he deserve such joy and pleasure? Was his redemption enough? Reyer closed his eyes, hearing his wife's requiem playing softly in his ear. He drifted to sleep…never to open his eyes again.

* * *

Erik stepped out of his bedroom, fully clothed and with a bit of determination in each step. He left his sleeping wife in the bed. Erik had slept little during the night; partly because of his sickness, and partly because he was most anxious to speak with Stefan. Erik had to know the reaction of the man he still considered a friend. _He may well think of me as a monster instead of a friend now_, Erik thought sadly, as he made his way silently through the hallway. Most of the sickness had left him in the earlier parts of the morning; his medicine had indeed worked as it was suppose to. Erik still felt the leftover weakness, but he knew that the feeling would pass. A thought struck Erik blindly. As he neared the entrance to the Opera Populaire, he noticed that dawn was just now lighting up the sky. _I still have time_…Erik stepped out into the faint rays of morning, not bothering to pull his hood up. No one was around…but a small boy at the foot of the expansive stair case of the Opera House. Erik approached. 

"My boy, do you have a _Les Beaux-Arts Critiquent_?"

The boy nodded and grabbed the paper with his grubby hands. "It'll be a franc, Sir."

Erik gave the boy several gold coins. The boy's face lit up, and he grumbled his thanks as he frantically pocketed the money. Erik took the paper and retreated into the safety of the Opera House as the sun rose higher in the sky. He walked toward Stefan's office, but he knew he would not be there yet. Erik backtracked a bit and headed for the main auditorium. He looked around at the lower level seats and he sat in a comfy chair in the middle of the first aisle. Erik opened the newspaper, scanning the many reviews and critiques that the paper was famous for. He quickly found what he was looking for.

**_'Opera Populaire strikes gold with new maestro: Rose et la Nuit an overwhelming success'_**

Erik could hardly believe his eyes as he read the article.

Rose et la Nuit tells the story of the God Apollo's love for a beautiful maiden named Amaranth. However, their love is foiled by Apollo's own twin sister Artemis, who ends the strange love affair by turning Amaranth into a solitary red rose. The opera is full of passion, romance, anger, and betrayal; in other words, everything an opera needs. The cast receives full marks from this reviewer, especially the tenor who played Apollo. It was very easy indeed to imagine a god singing to you with the heavenly voice the actor had. The opera was written by Erik Massenet, an up and coming young composer, whose brilliance has not been seen in centuries. Paris will have to keep an eye out for the Opera Populaire, and the Maestro Erik Massenet.

The article went on for two more pages, praising every singer and dancer. The last sentence was a plea for more of the same. Erik was relieved that his work had been so well received; it alleviated a huge pressure from his shoulders. Erik was just re-folding his newspaper when Stefan entered. He was clutching a paper as well.

"Erik! I am certainly glad to see you up and about…Have you seen the review in _L'Epoque_? I am in shock! Everyone loved the opera, Erik…and they loved you! Every review I have read has said something about your performance, though none of the papers know it was actually the maestro performing his own work…"

Erik smiled "And what about the compliments for your management? They say that the Opera Populaire has never looked or sounded better…and that is a credit to you, my friend."

Stefan took a seat next to Erik. "Yes, well…I think I would have run screaming from all this if it hadn't been for your letters in the first place…we really make a good team, Erik. And I am proud to be able to call you my friend." He placed a hand on Erik's shoulder. "Erik…I know that you probably want to talk about yesterday. I just wanted you to know that it doesn't matter to me…it never has. Actually, I feel a little relieved to finally see you without the mask. I can finally see who you are-and I swear to you on my mother's grave that I will reveal nothing. You can trust me, Erik."

Erik was touched. "I…I have never had quite that reaction before. There is a rather good reason why my face is kept hidden…I…cannot bear to see the looks of revulsion, or the looks of fear…but what is worse is the pity. I beg you, Stefan, don't pity me. For most of my life I have lived in despair and loneliness, wallowing in my own self pity. But now…for the first time in my life I feel as if I am a man, and not a monster. I need no pity now…only understanding. Thank you, Stefan. I am proud to call you friend as well."

There was a moment of silence as Stefan and Erik contemplated each other's words. The Opera Populaire was beginning to wake around them, albeit a bit grumbly from last night's great party. Erik rose from his seat.

"There is a matter that I would like to speak to you about…my sister, Elisabeth, wishes to try out for the chorus. Can that be arranged? I want nothing to do with the tryouts...make no mistake that I believe Elisabeth is perfectly capable, and I know that you have said that you would relinquish the hiring of singers to me…but I want no doubts in Elisabeth's or anyone else's mind that Elisabeth did not earn her place. She shall receive no special treatment, although I will be taking the time to teach her."

Stefan nodded. "I understand…when can she be prepared?"

"Give her a few days. She will be ready."

* * *

Stefan and Erik went into the Stefan's office to discuss the business aspect of the previous night. The take in from tickets had been substantial; Erik received a large sum as his share of the profits, but Stefan also insisted that Erik be paid for his opera and his performance. Erik was left with a lot more than the twenty thousand francs that he had once extorted from the previous managers of the Opera Populaire. This was wonderful news for Erik; he could now afford a house in Paris, closer to the Opera House. He explained his reasoning to Stefan. 

"Music is my life…and as long as you'll have me, I will continue to be a patron and I will continue to write and produce operas. My wife wants to sing again…and I have no doubts that my sister will do well here as well. Our home is a good distance away; it is not reasonable to travel back and forth every day. With the twins on the way, I don't want to remain on the outskirts of Paris anymore. With the babies and Brian, we need to be closer to the city merely for safety reasons. I trust few doctors, Stefan, but I know that they have access to medicine and tools that I do not. So for the sake of my family and for the sake of convenience, I need to find a house suitable here in Paris. I don't suppose you know of such?"

Stefan shook his head. "No, Erik…but then again, I haven't exactly looked. I can help you, certainly…how does it feel to be home after being away for months? I know you missed your wife terribly…"

Erik reclined back into his chair, his hands wrapping themselves around the back of his head. "It was unbearable…I am glad that I made it back in time for the opera, Stefan…and I am sorry that you had to make the arrangements on your own. Next time, you won't be able to keep me away…"

"Well, what do we do with our little problem concerning a new tenor? I certainly do not want to rehire Romanao…we could post an ad in the paper, I suppose."

Erik closed his eyes, imaging the horrible screeching that he would have to endure as tryouts were held…there was a knock on the office door.

"Excuse me, Monsieur Javere?" A young man stood in the door, clutching a trumpet in his hands. "I hate to bother you, Sir, but M. Reyer hasn't shown up for practice…and he is over an hour late. I have been in the orchestra for a little over two years now, and I have not known M. Reyer to be tardy for any rehearsal…let alone not show up at all. I am concerned, Monsieur…and so is everyone else in the orchestra."

Stefan nodded his head, a puzzled expression on his face. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention, young man. Go to the orchestra and tell them they are dismissed until three o'clock…we will get to the bottom of this, my good man. Have no fear."

The trumpet player bowed quickly and left the doorway. Erik frowned.

"I have known Reyer for a lot longer than two years…and I can tell you that the man would rather cut his own foot off than be late to practice…he lives for his music. Stefan, do you have a home address?"

Stefan was already shuffling through his filing cabinet. "I have records for all the employees here at the Opera House…but I have done no recent ones; these records belong to my predecessors. I must say, they were rather disorganized."

After a long moment of searching, and a few curses for the previous managers, Stefan found Reyer's file. "Here it is…he lives nearby, Erik…only about a ten minute walk. Should I send someone to check on him?"

Erik wanted to go himself…but he also knew that being exposed in the full daylight was not something he needed to do. He nodded resignedly.

"Send a man you trust, Stefan. I will be in one of the practice rooms…send word to me there when we know the problem."

Stefan inclined his head, and Erik rose from his seat. "I will see you shortly, my friend." Erik strode out of the room. Stefan sat heavily into his chair a moment and buried his face in his hands. _I hope that we do not find what I fear we will_, he thought mournfully.

* * *

"Do re mi fa so la ti do! Do ti la so fa mi re do!" 

"Again, Elisabeth, but this time fill your lungs with as much air as you can, then release through your diaphragm…no no no!"

Erik stopped his piano playing. He turned to Elisabeth crossly. "You do not have the correct breath support…nor the correct posture! Stand straight!" Elisabeth raised her slouched shoulders. "Now, raise your chin a hair…that's right. Pretend that you're sticking your nose up at me…that's good!" Elisabeth laughed a little, breaking Erik's cantankerous mood. "Ok, my dear, now breathe in and hiss the air out as long as you can…no!" Erik's bad mood returned sharply.

Erik rose from his bench and positioned Elisabeth correctly. "The key to the voice is the air…without the right breath, you can't support your note. Now, I know it may seem silly, but hiss out as long as you can…I will press forward on your chest a bit…right above your stomach." Erik placed a hand across Elisabeth's middle. "Now, deep breath…and hiss." Elisabeth hissed air from her lungs. It started out strong and loud, but as Elisabeth lost air and support, the hiss began to die. At the last moment, Erik pressed hard across Elisabeth's chest. Suddenly, the hiss was loud and strong again. Erik stopped her, pleased.

"Do you see? You can do it…it's just a matter of concentrating. What are you doing?"

Elisabeth had settled herself into a chair and was taking a long sip of water. "I'm resting a moment, Erik…and I'm thirsty."

Erik shook his head angrily. "Either you're here to rehearse, or you leave. There is no breaks…this is important!"

"I know Erik! I'm trying…but I'm not going to learn everything in one lesson! I have much to learn, I know…but you're going so fast!"

A sigh escaped Erik. "I just want you to be ready, Elisabeth…I want you to make your audition. You have the talent…but it's almost as if you have no emotion, no passion…why?"

Elisabeth bowed her head. "I don't know…I guess I can't put myself in other's places…like if I'm singing about love, I just don't know the feeling of being in love…so how can I sing about it?"

"Just because you have never felt the love between a man and woman does not mean that you do not know love…you love Brian, don't you? It may not be a romantic love, but love is something that is powerful in its essence. Love is something that everyone has-it is an integral part in life. I had my music for the longest time when I had no other company…it was my sole love. But passion is something that every person must have to exist…otherwise there is no will to live. You just have to learn to put that into your voice."

Elisabeth listened closely to his words. "I understand…I think. It's just so hard…and I…I…"

Erik leaned forward and prompted, "Yes?"

"I'm frightened. What if I croak? What if I get to the audition, and I fail horribly?"

"You mustn't think that way, Elisabeth. All you can do is your best. If you go in and _try_, then you always run the risk of failure…but if you go in and _do_, will then, you will always succeed in your own eyes…and mine as well."

Elisabeth smiled. "Thank you, Erik."

Erik shrugged. "Besides, I have confidence in you. I wouldn't be wasting my time on someone who I didn't think could achieve greatness…after all, you _are_ my sister. Of course you are destined for great things!"

Elisabeth laughed. "Arrogant, aren't we?"

"I only speak the truth, my dear…only the truth. Have you decided on a tryout piece?"

"No…"

Erik sighed wearily. "I cannot pick something for you…but I can hand you this stack of musical choices…and indicate that the top one is a really good song for you…perfect range, style…but of course, it is your decision." He passed her a small stack of scores. Elisabeth eyed the song carefully. She looked over the words…looked over the notes…it was in Italian, but that was no problem…Elisabeth could speak Italian fluently; she had learned from a man in her village…he gave her lessons in return for warm bread. The only problem was that the song was all about love: a love so powerful that the maiden Leonora was willing to die for her lover…could Elisabeth do this? She thought back to Erik's earlier words…and her confidence grew. She flashed Erik a brilliant smile.

"Monsieur Massenet, I believe that I will be singing 'Di Tale Amor' from _Il Trovatore_ by the great Giuseppe Verdi. I believe that you have heard of him?"

Erik raised his eyebrow. She was so rambunctious…but she caught on quickly. "Once or twice…I take it you like the song?"

In response, Elisabeth began to sing:

**Di tale amor che dirsi mal puo dalla parola,  
D' amor che intendo io sola,  
Il cor s' inebrio!  
Il mio destino compiersi non puo che a lui dappresso…  
S' io non vivro per esso, per esso io moriro!**

Elisabeth exhaled lightly as she finished the song. She glanced at Erik expectantly.

"Well? Do you think I can do it?"

"Are you willing to work? Are you willing to do your best? I can guarantee you that if youpractice this song, you will impress the judges immensely. And I will help you…"

"Monsieur Massenet?" A girl stood in the open doorway of the practice room. "Please excuse the interruption, but Monsieur Javere requests your presence immediately. It is an urgent matter, Sir…it cannot wait."

Erik turned to Elisabeth. "My dear, that's all the time we have for today…but we will practice together again soon. Work on it yourself; I expect it to be ten times better the next time…"

Erik turned to follow the girl. "Is he in his office?"

The girl shook her head. "No, Monsieur…he is Madam Massenet's room…he told me to escort you there."

Erik felt the fear freeze his heart. "Is something wrong with Christine?"

"No, no, Monsieur…nothing is wrong with your wife. I do not know the details, Sir…I just obey."

They walked in silence the rest of the way. When they reached their destination, the girl curtsied before hurrying off. Erik flung open the door to his room to find Christine sobbing in Stefan's arms. She glanced up when Erik entered the room, and she flung herself upon him, crying harder. Erik was bewildered; he held his wife close, stroking her hair gently as she sobbed. He glanced at Stefan questioningly before turning his attention back to his wife.

"Christine…Christine, it's all right…I'm here, love. What's wrong, Angel…are you all right?"

Christine pulled away slightly to look at Erik sadly, her big brown eyes filled with sorrow and tears. "M. Reyer…he's dead, Erik…they found him in his home…he died in his sleep…" Christine burst into tears again, and Erik hugged her tightly.

"It's all right, Christine…death is a part of life…there is beauty in all things…see the beauty in Reyer's life, not death, Christine. Don't mourn his passing…celebrate his life."

At Erik's calming words, Christine composed herself. She sat herself in a chair, still clinging to Erik's hand. Erik was staring at Stefan, a hard look in his eyes.

"Why did you see fit to personally deliver such horrible news to my wife? I do not think that this is appropriate, my friend…I do not appreciate this behavior at all."

Stefan cleared his throat. "You see, Erik-"

"Stefan isn't to blame in the slightest, Erik…I was present when the messenger came with the news…I demanded to know, and Stefan was good enough to escort me here to tell me the news."

Erik was not convinced. "I would have rather been the first to know…"

Stefan bowed his head. "I am sorry, my friend…I have never had to be the bearer of bad news…and this is such heartbreaking news."

Erik sighed, low and soft. "Have you broken it to the Opera House staff? They will be distraught; Reyer has been a fixture at this opera house for as long as I can remember."

Stefan shook his head. "I will gather everyone at three o' clock…there's more, Erik."

"What?"

"The messenger I sent found two letters on Reyer's desk, ready to be sent. One was to Reyer's only son…luckily it had an address on it; we can get in touch with him. The second…was for you, Erik. Here, I have it with me." Stefan handed Erik a sealed envelope. "I will take my leave. I'm sorry, my friend…" Stefan hurriedly left the room, leaving Erik and Christine alone. She glared at him.

"Why did you get upset with Stefan? The news would have been the same coming from you as it would be coming from him…Erik? What's wrong?"

Erik had essentially ignored Christine; he was opening the letter Stefan gave him. His eyes narrowed tightly, and he walked stiffly to the desk. He spread the letter out on the surface. The envelope had enclosed a letter to Erik and a piece of sheet music. Finally hearing Christine's question, he addressed her:

"He knew. He knew that I was the Phantom of the Opera."

"What? How do you know?"

Erik handed Christine the letter as he studied the music. Christine read the note.

_**O.G.:**_

I write this to you in hopes that you will be able to compose what I cannot. You always had a knack for finding the perfect notes to express exactly my own thoughts and feelings; I am hoping that you will find them again. This is my requiem, Maestro…and I wish it to be completed by you. I have always respected your genius…and feared your madness. You once held the Opera Populaire in a strong grasp of fear; now you do so again, only that you hold them in adoration and respect through the music that you create. I congratulate you on your opera tonight; and I honor your performance as well. You need not worry about other's recognizing you…I know your music far too well, Monsieur Phantom. Take pride in that you have made an old man's dream a reality…my whole life I have been waiting to hear the music that I heard tonight. I hope that you find peace and solace in your music…it has been my only comfort for too long. Please, complete my requiem…as one composer to another.

Your obedient servant,

_**F.R.**_

Christine handed Erik back the note, tears in her eyes. Erik stared at the paper for a long moment, absorbing Reyer's last words to him completely. He turned his attention to the composition. It was for a violin; and it was indeed half finished.

"Let's gather Elisabeth and Brian, Angel. I have work to do."

* * *

The sky was a brilliant blue as Raoul made his way to the Opera Populaire. The friendly fall air added a bit of a chill compared to the muggy days of summer that were being left behind, and Raoul pulled his cloak closer to his body. He really should have been at the Opera House earlier, but found that after the enjoyable party last night that crawling out of bed at six a.m. was out of the question. Raoul glanced at his watch. Three forty five p.m. Well, perhaps he was much later than he thought…but he did partake in some most excellent wine last night…and it had left him with a brilliant headache. The dull pain was slowly fading now, and Raoul could think clearly. Not that he particularly wanted to think clearly. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw blue green ones…piercing, laughing eyes that mocked his heart with every breath. Raoul shook his head to rid himself of Elisabeth's beautiful eyes. He would be patient…he would be the gentleman…and then, perhaps, he would earn Elisabeth's respect…and maybe even her love. Raoul entered the stable and jumped from his horse. He was shocked to see a small group emerge from the opera house. 

"Stefan! Erik…where are you going? I was hoping to talk to you about yesterday's great triumph!"

Erik looked at him with distaste. "You and your 'great triumphs'…if you wanted to know how much money you were going to get from _my_ opera, then you should have been at the meeting we held…at seven this morning! Now, if you will step aside…"

Stefan looked apologetic. "I would stay and fill you in, but I have business to discuss with Erik…he has invited me to his home."

Raoul brightened. "Well, then…I'll just come with you."

"No, I think not, dear Vicomte. I will not have you in my home." Erik was infuriated; how dare this man invite himself to his only refuge?

Christine moved silently forward and touched her husband's arm. He leaned down and allowed her to whisper in his ear. Erik's facial expressions changed rapidly from anger, to disbelief, and finally to a stony acceptance.

"My wife reminds me that you have not seen the house since we moved in…and she has also reminded me of your part in our 'moving in' in the first place. I always repay my debts, Vicomte…allow me to extend the invitation for you to join us." Erik sounded as though he had just been informed that he must swallow a glass full of nails. Elisabeth hid behind her hand, trying desperately to hide the giggles that were threatening to expose her. Raoul smiled broadly.

"I accept, of course, Erik." He leaned in closer to him. Raoul spoke only for Erik's ears. "I bet that hurt to say, Phantom." Erik physically balled his fists, his knuckles turning white in the effort not to slam the Vicomte to the ground. To Erik's surprise, Christine slapped Raoul across the arm.

"You will not bait him, Raoul…I will not be responsible for the consequences. Please, can't you two act like gentlemen? For God's sake, you act like spoiled children." Erik and Raoul both looked at Christine in surprise. She merely inclined her head. "I'm sure that you both understand me plainly…I don't want to hear it! I hate the arguing…just stop! And Stefan! You're as bad as them! You are supposed to be older…and you're their manager! Grow a backbone and quit accepting their arguing! I will accept it no longer!" She pushed past them both and entered the waiting carriage. Elisabeth shrugged at Erik, and joined Christine with Brian. That left Raoul, Erik, and Stefan out in the silence of the still day.

"Hormones, most probably…bloody hormones running rampant," Erik murmured, more to himself than the benefit of his companions. He raised an eyebrow at Stefan and Raoul, who where looking at Erik with dumbfounded looks.

"Why are you staring at me? She yelled at me too…and I have to ride in the carriage with her. Shall we, gentlemen?" Erik gestured to Raoul's and Stefan's horses. Obediently, they mounted their steeds. Erik braced himself a moment longer before stepping into the carriage, fully prepared to face his wife's unexpected wrath.

* * *

Raoul, Stefan, and Erik sat together in Erik's second story office. Raoul had just finished with a recitation of the various well-to-do members of society who had loved the gala. Erik was trying in vain to hide his displeasure. 

"I do not care if the rich and pompous people of Paris liked my opera…it matters not if the audience member is fabulously wealthy or a comfortable merchant. Such things might matter to one such as yourself, Vicomte, but the idle thoughts of pleasing the upper class are beneath me."

Raoul tilted his head. "You may say that you don't care that the affluent see your opera, but I promise you that their influence will be felt. A select group of elite saw your performance last night; they in turn report their like or dislike as it were to the main group; they talk at parties, teas, luncheons…and if the rich in Paris liked your opera, then we can expect good sales for the rest of the run. I know the game well, Erik…"

"Of course you do, Vicomte…you are the 'affluent' as you so delicately put it…but I do see your point. People will not pay to see the opera if it has bad reviews."

Stefan interceded. "At the rate that we are going, we will sell out the remaining shows…but we have two devastating problems. We are short two key people on our staff: a suitable tenor, and a new conductor. It pains me to think of replacing Reyer so soon, but we have no choice. 'The show must go on', so to speak. What do we do?"

Raoul leaned forward a bit. "Personally, I think that Erik should remain the principal tenor for the remainder of the show; he knows the part well and there is no denying the fact that the audience simply adored him. We can put an ad for a new tenor, as you have already suggested, Stefan, but if Erik finishes the run then we will not be so pressed for time…A new conductor poses a dire problem in itself. It is essential, but we have to find one before the next performance…which takes place a week from yesterday!"

Stefan turned to Erik. "Will you finish the show as Apollo, Erik?"

"Of course I will…the Vicomte's words speak truth. Our number one concern needs to be finding a new conductor…I will make it my number one priority."

Christine's voice floated through the open door of the office. "Gentlemen, dinner is served…"

Erik softened. "Well, perhaps my number two priority." Stefan and Raoul rose from their seats. Erik reached out and grabbed the Vicomte roughly by the arm. "I need a moment alone with the Vicomte, Stefan. We shall be down shortly." Stefan nodded briskly, then took his leave. Erik released Raoul and motioned for him to seat himself again.

"You have my word that I will keep this brief. It is quite simple: I do not like the attention you have doted upon my sister. I know not your intentions, but your actions are plain. You are smitten with her, but I remind you: she is not someone to be trifled with. I will protect her with my life, Vicomte…and I will not allow you to harm her, intentionally or not. If you are simply playing some kind of game, then consider this a warning. You would do well to remember that I do not make threats…I make promises. Do we understand one another, dear Vicomte?" Raoul looked closely at Erik, noticing the concern and worry mixed in with the anger in his blue green eyes…so much like his sister's.

"Erik…I know that you and I will probably never get along properly…but please know this: I would never hurt your sister. Elisabeth is an ingenious young woman, and yes, you could say that I am 'smitten' with her. The fact that she is your sister means only that I will have to try harder to win her affections. I will respect her…and I will respect you. You are her guardian…and I am in need of your blessings in regards to her. I will return for them when the time is right…and I hope that, if Elisabeth wills it, you will not deny me." Raoul looked Erik straight in the eye, so that he could see the truth there. Raoul cleared his throat. "If that is all?" Erik nodded blankly. Raoul rose from his seat. He gestured to the door. "After you, my host." Erik rose mechanically from his chair, his mind deep in his own thoughts. He hated to admit it, but the Vicomte had earned a little respect in his book tonight. Raoul and Erik now had an informal understanding…and Erik was surprised at how relieved he truly felt.

After dinner, Raoul and Stefan bid there goodbyes to Erik and his family. Christine tucked Brian into his bed; he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Elisabeth stayed in the kitchen, diligently cleaning up after the big meal. To no one's surprise, Erik immediately headed to the music room. Christine could hear the soft cry of Erik's violin…she peaked her head in slightly. Erik stopped and glanced up.

"Yes, love?"

Christine entered the room. "I just wanted to check on you…do you think you'll be here all night?"

Erik shrugged. "Reyer's funeral is tomorrow, Christine…and I want this requiem done. I will try not to disturbed you."

Christine took a seat next to him on the floor. "Is there anything I can do to help?" Erik pulled her close, giving her a warm hug.

"You could go to bed. Knowing that one of us will have some sleep will do me wonders tomorrow…besides, you need your rest. Think of the little ones…" Erik's hand traveled from caressing Christine's cheek to gently touching the bulge of her abdomen. He still loved the feel of the tiny infants kicking against his slender fingers. Christine kissed Erik lightly on the temple.

"It won't be long before our babies are here…have you thought about changing your office into a nursery?" At Erik's grimace, she laughed. "I guess not…"

"Actually, I think I'm going to purchase a house in Paris…it will be closer to the Opera Populaire, and it will be much more convenient for you to do the things proper for a lady…I want you to be the envy of other people, my dear. I can't just keep you all to myself (although that is exactly my intent)." Christine broke into a large grin.

"You want to move to Paris? Wonderful! That's jus-" Christine interrupted herself with a huge yawn. "Oh my goodness…I am so tired all of a sudden…and it will be terribly difficult to sleep without you with me…will you sing for me?"

Erik smiled. He escorted Christine up the stairs safely. Erik gently helped her into bed, pulling the covers over her head. He took her hand, and sang her to sleep.

When Christine's hand went slack in his own, Erik carefully retreated from the room. He was met on the stairs by Elisabeth.

"Good night, Erik…I wish you luck on your composition. I'm sure that it will be a fitting tribute to Maestro Reyer…please give my regards. I shall stay here with Brian…he does not need to be at a funeral; it wouldn't be proper."

"Thank you, Elisabeth, for volunteering to care for Brian…I heard you practicing in the garden, Elisabeth…it sounded lovely. Keep up the work, my dear, and you will have a celebrated position in the Opera Populaire in no time."

Elisabeth glowed with pleasure at his words. She hugged him quickly before continuing to her bedroom. Erik's mind was filled with pleasant thoughts: the feel of his wife's fingers entwined around his own, Elisabeth's blushing face, even little Brian's snores…and now he had to push those thoughts away. Erik entered his music room, prepared to enter a dark place to complete his work. He found that he was unable to completely submerge himself in despair and darkness…but he found the inspiration to give Reyer's final composition justice nonetheless.

* * *

Christine awakened the next morning as her husband appeared in the doorway, bleary and red eyed. He smiled at her slightly; Christine knew he must have finished the requiem…and was pleased with it. Erik sat at the edge of the bed as Christine moved her legs over. He really was a sight: his hair was sticking up everywhere, and he had a couple of day's growth of hair on his face. Christine reached out and touched his chin. 

"This isn't something your'e keeping, is it?"

Erik moved his hand over hers, then pretended to contemplate. "Maybe…if I feel like it. How did you sleep?"

"Wonderfully. I take it the music came to you last night?"

"In the most unique way, I would imagine. It's raining outside…been raining since about three this morning."

Christine could hear the pitter patter of the raindrops hitting the roof and windows. "You love the rain, Angel…why would it bother you now?"

Erik rose from the bed and moved to the dresser. There was a large basin of water there, and he vigorously rubbed his face and hair with the water.

"I'm not too concerned…I should be glad for the cover of rain opposed to being in full sunlight…I just don't want the violin to get damaged."

Christine rose from the bed and hugged her husband from behind. "I'm sure everything will be fine, Erik…if not, then I have something for you. I have been meaning to give it to you for ages…but I just never got around to it." Erik watched her as she moved toward another dresser. Christine opened the last drawer and pulled out a battered old violin case.

"It was my father's…one of only a few things that he left for me. It has been far too long since I've heard music from my father's violin…will you take it, Erik, and play sweet music for me? I long to hear it so…" Christine's eyes filled with emotion, and Erik sensed that this was an important thing for her.

"What would you like to hear, my Angel?"

"_The Resurrection of Lazarus_…my father would play it when he was feeling sad; he would play for my mother in Heaven…and it seems to fit the mood for today, love. Please, play?"

Erik nodded slowly, taking the worn violin to his neck. He carefully checked it over, and found it, surprisingly, in tune. Christine sat at her vanity as Erik began to play the beautiful song…it seemed to be the epitome of sadness. He felt his body become controlled by the music, and he became aware of nothing but the silkiness of the bow hitting the strings slightly, delicately. When the song ended, he became painfully aware of his wife's cries…Erik carefully laid the violin to the side, and held Christine close. She sobbed a bit against his shoulder.

"It has been ages since I have visited my father…I shall do that today, after M. Reyer's funeral…will you come with me?"

"Of course, Christine. I will be there for you."

* * *

Erik walked calmly in the long line of people at Reyer's funeral. Christine clung to him tightly. The rain fell steadily upon them, but Erik held an umbrella high above Christine, to keep her dry. He himself was half soaked, but it was more important to him to keep Christine safe and warm. In Erik's other hand was his violin case. They finally reached the small tent that had been set up in order for the priest to say his prayers. The grave site was a little away from the tent. The priest began his words. All bowed their heads in remembrance of Reyer…all but Erik. Erik lifted his eyes to the Heavens, wondering if Reyer was truly among God now. He hoped for such. The priest ended his prayers, and Erik brought the violin up. The haunting melody of Reyer's requiem filled the air around the mourners, and all stopped to stare in amazement at the musician who brought the music to life. Unbeknownst to the rest of the group, a tall young man slipped in silently; he too was captured by the music. In his arms was a violin case… 

Erik finished, the air around him filled with the last wavering note of the piece. Silence quickly followed. The somber group went forth into the rain once more to say their final goodbyes to a dear friend. Women threw roses of all colors into his grave. The priest nodded to Erik, and Erik began the traditional Catholic requiem. The young man who had joined them raised his violin as well. Suddenly, the sound of two haunting violins filled the air; the unknown man joined Erik not in a copy of the requiem, but in a duet. Erik's violin played the primary part, while the stranger played a secondary. Erik felt the surprise and astonishment fill him as the man came to stand beside him. _This man can play very well_, Erik thought, as he studied the man. Wait…this man…he bore a striking resemblance to Reyer! This was his son…Erik looked the man in the eyes, and nodded once. The man seemed to understand, because he immediately took over the primary part as Erik silenced his violin. Erik watched with the others as Reyer's son finished the Catholic requiem for his father.

* * *

After the service, all in attendance headed back to the Opera Populaire for a celebration of Reyer's life and works. His friends and colleagues gathered to talk of Reyer's love of music and life. Stefan and Erik sought out Reyer's son. He was in a corner of the Opera House auditorium; he spoke to no one, but had a faraway look in his eyes. Stefan approached with sympathy. 

"M. Reyer, I am terribly sorry for your loss…I am Stefan Javere, the manager of the Opera Populaire…this is Erik Massenet, one of our patrons and our maestro as well…if there is anything I can do for you, please don't hesitate to ask." Reyer looked at Stefan in surprise.

"Please, call me Donovan…my father was Monsieur Reyer…it is so hard to believe that he's gone…" Donovan choked a bit, then turned his attention to Erik. "What was that you were playing at the funeral, Monsieur? Before the Catholic requiem…I must know!"

Erik regarded him carefully. The man was clearly distraught…but there was something else… "It was a composition of your father's, young Reyer. It was incomplete, and it was his wish that I finish it…if you would like it, I can arrange for it to be given to you."

"I would like that very much, Maestro…did you two know my father well?" Stefan spoke first.

"I was his employer for a short time…and I can honestly say that he was a very agreeable and dedicated man…but if you interrupted his rehearsals, there was Hell to pay!" To Erik's surprise, Donovan laughed.

"That sounds exactly like my father…I have not seen him in over twenty years, gentlemen…and now I am too late…" The grief seemed to be filling the man before them and Stefan spoke quietly.

"Donovan, have you been given your father's letter?" Donovan shook his head. Stefan continued. "He left a letter addressed to you…I left instructions for the letter to either be given to you in person or have it returned to his home…perhaps it would be wise for you to read it." Donovan nodded, but a pained look returned to his eyes.

"I have no one with me…would you two mind accompanying me? I promise I shall be brief…but I do not think that I can handle being alone right now." Erik started to protest softly, but Stefan elbowed him in the side.

"Of course we will accompany you, young Reyer."

* * *

The rain was still falling slightly as Stefan, Erik and Donovan made their way to the former home of Reyer. Erik couldn't help admiring the neighborhood and house as they approached. Donovan unlocked the door and waved the two men inside. 

"This was my childhood home…I don't think my father could have sold it…it has many memories, Monsieurs…If I know my father, there is bourbon in the living room…if you will follow me?" Donovan led them through the entry hall and into a small side room facing the street. He poured three glasses, but spotted the letter on the desk. Donovan set his drink aside carelessly, letting some of the alcohol spill to the floor. Donovan read the note in silence, then turned to Stefan, tears in his eyes.

"I know that you do not know me, Monsieur…but please, allow me to take my father's position at the Opera Populaire. I have failed to make things right between us…the least that I can do is continue his life's work. I am a composer, a musician, a conductor…I can do the job. Perhaps through music I can gain the forgiveness and redemption I so desperately need."

Stefan glanced at Erik, who nodded slightly. Stefan went to Donovan and offered a hand. "My boy, we would be honored to have a Reyer as a part of the Populaire family…it has been so for a long time."

Donovan sank into a chair in relief. He took a long sip from his drink, then glanced around. "I shall have to sort through my father's things…and I have to sell this house!"

Erik suddenly smiled. "I think I can help you there, young Reyer."

* * *

**Author's note 2:** Of course, since I said that last chapter was my biggest yet, I had to go and top myself with this chapter! Bloody Hell! (to quote ron from hp) I hope that ya'll don't get too spoiled with these terribly long chapters…I don't know how long I can keep it up! Please give me some response to this chapter…I hope you liked my character interpretations. And coming next chapter…du.du.dun…the babies! Thanks for reading, and I hope that you enjoyed. 

**Translation of 'Di Tale Amor':**  
A love that can hardly be put into words,  
a love that only I can understand,  
such a love has filled my heart!  
My destiny will be fulfilled only at his side…  
I will live only for him, if not, I will die for him!


	17. A New Family

**Demons of the Past**

**Ch. 17: A New Family**

**Author's note:** I received a review that asked if Christine was eight months along…and I guess I wasn't clear on the timeline. Starting with Chapter Nine, everything is in sequence of days not months…with the exception of Erik's journey back to Paris; I skipped two weeks there. At the end of last chapter, Christine was roughly five months along. This chapter I have skipped ahead three months, making her eight months pregnant. This chapter is the chapter of birth. I hope I have not confused anyone…but I am so ready for the babies! Enjoy!

**P.S.** I am not sure if fraternal friends can look as different as mine do in this story, but I'm going for it anyway. I tried to do some research, and it says that some can look like identical twins, and some can look remarkably different, so I'm goingwith the later.

_Disclaimer: I own Erik! He is mine, all mine! (Wakes up in rubber room…) Mechanically, and because I am forced to admit it, I do not own Erik or the Phantom of the Opera…WAAAA!_

And now, on with the story…

* * *

(Three months have past since Reyer's funeral) 

Christine was uncomfortable. No, that's not quite the term. Christine was in constant, excruciating discomfort from the time she got out of bed until the time she stumbled back into it. At eight and a half months pregnant, Christine felt that she looked similar to a giant balloon; she was all stomach in the front, her abdomen that protected her precious babies well out in front of her small frame. Christine had not seen her feet in months, but she knew they were there from the constant pain. She had trouble getting around now…the doctor had said that she had gained little weight besides the weight connected with the pregnancy, which accounted for the constant weakness and fatigue. Christine felt healthy though, and as the days grew closer for her babies arrival, her body glowed with the excitement of it all.

Christine walked into the expansive kitchen to fix herself a cold glass of milk. She admired the house as she went. Donovan had indeed sold his family home to them; he seemed very happy to do it. The house had six bedrooms in all; Christine had thought that was too many to manage, but Erik reminded her that with Elisabeth, Brian, themselves, and eventually the twins needing separate rooms, six bedrooms was perfectly plausible. Downstairs included an entry foyer, living room, kitchen, and dining area. Christine's favorite room was the play room. She had decorated it herself in a pale yellow, and with the large picture windows the room was always filled with light. Brian had already moved most of his toys into the room, giving it a childlike feel. Christine moved from the kitchen to the said play room and sat in a large rocking chair in front of a large window and fire place. She pondered her new home for a moment. The master bedroom was located downstairs…and it was many sizes bigger than the one she and Erik had previously shared. It even had a sitting room area…Erik had made her a small jewelry box in honor of the new house. It was a stand alone, and it was carved with beautiful roses. Christine had cried at his thoughtfulness.

The upstairs had the remaining bedrooms, a small office, and Erik's most important room: the music room. Donovan and Stefan had helped Erik move all his compositions and instruments into the bright room; it was then that Donovan and Erik really became acquainted. Donovan respected Erik's music, and Erik respected Donovan's talent with the violin. The one room in the house that had received the most attention by far had been the nursery. That was Erik's labor of love…he had asked Christine's opinion on some trivial matters, but for the most part, Erik used his vivid imagination. He painted beautiful murals on the walls of Angels…fairy tale creatures, anything that came to mind at the time of painting. The room was well fitted now for the twins; two cradles, changing tables, dressers…Christine had been working diligently on making baby clothes. She had nothing else to do, really.

The doctor had told her that she should limit her mobility, and that meant not going to the Opera Populaire with her husband. Erik often took Brian with him; according to Stefan, Brian was often on Erik's shoulders as he did his various tasks. Brian got a taste of everything, from painting and creating backdrops to arguing with Donovan over a minor chord. Brian had bonded tightly with Erik…and Erik was taken by him as well. Elisabeth had made the chorus, of course, and had even been given a minor role in Erik's opera before the run ended. One of the Amazon warriors became gravely ill, and Elisabeth proudly took her role and sang to thunderous applause. She had most definitely been bitten by the limelight bug; she talked now constantly of performing and her practices. Elisabeth always came home on the weekends, but there was no relaxing for her. Erik worked with her endlessly, perfecting Elisabeth's natural voice. Christine had even helped, working with Elisabeth with her own voice. The girls often teased Erik…whenever they sang together, it was too much for Erik to handle. He would stop whatever he was doing and just listen; the heavenly sound was perfection to Erik's ears.

A loud knock at the front door interrupted her thoughts. Christine glanced at the small clock on the mantle, then glanced at the light snow falling on the cold late November day. Who could it be? Erik was not due back until late afternoon…and it was hardly passed noon! Christine rose unsteadily to her feet, her hand going to the small of her back delicately. She walked carefully to the front entrance and opened the door.

"Meg! Madam Giry! How are you? What in the world are you doing walking in the snow?" Christine opened the door wide to allow her friends entrance. Meg walked in first carrying a large box. She set the box down carefully, then removed her outer wrappings. Madam Giry brushed the snow off her shoulders before grasping Christine by the arms.

"My dear, you look wonderful! It won't be long now, will it?" Christine blushed.

"To tell you the truth, Marie, I am a little frightened…I haven't talked to Erik about it at all…he seems so confident. He says that he's read hundreds of books on the subject, and that I have nothing to worry about. But still…the pain scares me. Will it be terrible?"

Madam Giry laughed. "Erik thinks he knows so much…but some things can't be learned from a book, my dear. Childbirth is something that most every woman has the opportunity to experience…your mother, grandmother, great grandmother…all bore children." Madam Giry froze at the sudden pained expression on Christine's face.

"My mother died in childbirth, Marie…what if…"

Madam Giry came forward immediately and hugged her tight. "Do not think of such things, Christine. All you can do is pray for a safe delivery. It is in God's hands, my dear…and if you want, I will be there for you. I have always thought of you as a daughter, Christine. If you wish it, I will-" Madam Giry was interrupted by a firm hand on her own.

"I would love nothing more than for you to be present at my babies' birth…I will need someone to keep Erik from killing the doctor…"

Meg and Madam Giry laughed. "Well, come on, Christine! Mother and I have something for you…we have been looking for the surprise for ages!" Meg picked up the box and followed Christine into the living room.

"Would you care for something to drink? I can get you something…"

"Nonsense, Christine, sit down and get comfortable! I think you will like what we have brought you…" Meg opened the box carefully. Christine leaned forward to look inside, and gasped. It was full of baby clothes…blankets…rattles and toys…Christine felt the tears fall.

"These are my baby things…"

Meg beamed. "And some of my own, actually. I figured you could use them until I have children of my own. Mother and I searched our holding room for ages…"

"Holding room?"

Meg shrugged. "We don't have an attic or basement, being as we have lived in the Opera House since I was born. So we use a holding room to hold our belongings that we don't use or are important for another time. Mother thought that she remembered saving a lot of your baby things…and sure enough, we found this box!"

Christine looked at Madam Giry and Meg, her eyes bright. "I can't tell you how much this means to me…"

Madam Giry smiled. "You don't have too. I thought that it might mean something to you, my dear…let's have a look, shall we?"

Madam Giry, Meg, and Christine spent the rest of the afternoon looking through Christine's and Meg's old baby clothes. Christine couldn't remember the last time she had felt so happy.

* * *

Erik made his way home from the Opera Populaire with Brian at roughly five o'clock. He didn't like to stay late at work…and the winter days grew ever shorter. Brian was having a grand time; he was walking in front of Erik as Erik held his little hands. Every once in a while, Erik would pick him up and swing him over the ground. This, of course, pleased Brian immensely, and he often squealed in delight. Erik loved the sound of his brother's innocent laughter. After a time, Brian grew tired of the game, and he moved to Erik's side. He stopped suddenly in the middle of the street. Erik stopped as well and looked at Brian in amusement. 

"Why did you stop, little bee? Do you see a pirate?" Brian had a vivid imagination, and he often swore that he saw anywhere from a pirate in a ship to a unicorn. Brian shook his head.

"I don't see anything like that today…Erik, can I ask you something?"

Erik looked a moment and noticed a small unattended stoop near the front of a building. "Sure…do you want to sit over there?"

Brian nodded solemnly. Erik smiled lopsidedly. Something was troubling Brian, but Erik wasn't too concerned. When Brian got serious it was often because he had an important question. But Brian's 'important questions' almost always put Erik in the best possible mood. The last one had been what exactly was an oboe and why did it sound so bad…Erik still laughed at the look of resentment on said oboe player's face. Erik sat first and motioned Brian to sit next to him. He glanced at the sky and noticed that they still had a good hour before dark.

"All right, Brian, what seems to be troubling you?"

Brian wrung his small hands together. Erik looked at him in concern. He had never seen the young lad act so somber. "My boy, what's wrong? You can tell me anything…"

"Erik, why don't I have a daddy?"

Erik froze for a moment, but did not let Brian see his surprise. Brian had spoken little of his father since they had left from Calais several months ago. Erik thought a moment, then said,

"Do you mean why haven't you seen your daddy?"

Brian shook his head. "No. I have never had a daddy…the other boys talk all the time about how their daddies take them to the park, and they play with them, and they buy them toys…and they tuck them in at night, and read them stories…and I tell them that I don't have a daddy, I have an Erik that does those things…and they laugh at me and say that it isn't the same. So…I was wondering…would you be my daddy instead of my Erik?"

Erik opened his mouth only to close it again. This child…this innocent boy of six had just asked him to be his father…Erik looked at Brian as he thought, but Brian took his silence as an answer.

"That's ok…no one wants to be my daddy. I'll be ok…" Brian started to sniffle. Erik grabbed him fiercely by the shoulders and pulled him against him in a tight embrace.

"Brian…don't cry…if you want me to, I will be your daddy…I want to, I swear." Brian pushed Erik away to look at him with tear streaked eyes.

"You mean it?"

Erik stood from the stoop and picked Brian up. He placed him on his shoulders, much to Brian's delight. "Of course I mean it…let's go tell Christine all about it, shall we?" Brian thought for a moment.

"Do you think Chrissy would be my mommy?"

"I'm sure she will, Brian."

The rest of the way home was uneventful. As soon as Erik unlocked the door, Brian jumped down and ran into the house. Erik headed for the play room; Christine had taken to spending her afternoons there. He found the room empty. _Well, not entirely empty_, Erik thought. Brian's toys were all over the place. Erik made his way back into the hallway.

"Christine?" Erik called loudly through the empty downstairs. He heard Brian laughing from upstairs before he heard thunderous footsteps on the stairs. Brian came running towards Erik in his socked feet, skidding to a stop so suddenly that Erik had to grab his arm to keep him from falling.

"Guess what! Chrissy said she would be my mommy! And she said that I would be a big brother to the babies! Can you believe it?" Erik smiled and ruffled his hair.

"I can believe it…but didn't I ask you to pick up your toys before we left today? You didn't…don't you think you should now?" Brian nodded glumly. Erik laughed at his expression. "If you pick up your toys, I'll tell you a story…deal?"

"Deal!" Brian went into the play room, and Erik climbed the staircase toward his wife's voice. He was at the top when he began to distinguish several voices. Who was his wife entertaining? Erik followed the voices and pushed the cracked door of the nursery open. Christine was seated in a small chair and was surrounded by baby things. Erik's eyes widened as he looked over the room. There were baby clothes EVERYWHERE! Every surface, every chair…clothes, blankets, bibs, toys…as Erik entered the room he kicked a small bear that squeaked loudly. He jumped in surprise, and the three ladies occupying the room glanced up.

"Erik! I'm so glad that you're home! How was you're day?" Christine started to get up from her chair, but Erik motioned her to sit back down.

"You stay put, Christine…I don't think you could make it across this room anyway…what is all this? And why is it all pink?"

Meg laughed. "Well, I would imagine it would be pink, considering this is all girl baby stuff." Erik looked pained.

"Christine, have you decided this week that you're having girls?" Christine laughed.

"Don't tease, Erik…I don't know what I'm having…but these are all from when Meg and I were babies!" Christine finally eyed the room around her. "I guess we got a little carried away…"

Madam Giry motioned for Meg. "I had no idea how late it has gotten…if you'll excuse us, Meg and I really need to get home before dark."

As Madam Giry walked by him, Erik squeezed her shoulder. "Would you like me to accompany you back?"

"No, Erik, I think Meg and I will be all right…but thank you though." She smiled broadly, then left the room. Meg followed. Erik looked around the room again before finding a path to Christine. He started to pick up frilly dresses and frocks along the way.

"Brian had an interesting question for me, Erik…did you get the same one?" Erik brought the clothes to Christine, who automatically started folding them. Erik was picking up toys and placing them in a bin.

"Yes, I did…and I have to admit I was a bit taken aback. But I really see no harm in it; after all, we are raising him as we would our own son." Erik finished tidying up the room, then came to stand beside Christine. He touched her silky curls with his fingers.

"And how are you feeling today? Everything all right?" Christine grabbed his hand and cupped it against her face.

"Just tired, love…and my back has hurt all day. I really could use one of your massages later." Erik leaned down and kissed her softly, marveling at the way she always smelled of fresh roses. "I'll talk to the doctor about it…I have an appointment tomorrow with him." They had decided that since the Opera House doctor had seen Christine from the beginning of her pregnancy that he should continue to treat her.

"Of course…are you hungry? Ready for my world famous cuisine?"

Christine laughed. "I'm always ready for a meal that I don't have to cook myself."

"Keep laughing…you have to clean up, and I'm planning on dirtying every dish in the kitchen."

A groan escaped Christine. "Well, then…perhaps I will draw myself a hot bath…" Erik helped her from her chair, and they walked downstairs together. "Where is Brian?"

"In the play room, picking up his toys." They passed the aforementioned room, and Erik stopped to check on him. Brian was still diligently picking up his toys. Erik continued, Christine's arm looped around his own. Erik entered the master bedroom.

"Why don't you get comfortable, and I'll go draw the bath? You can soak while I cook dinner…"

Christine looked a little shocked. "Erik…thanks for being so nice…but you really don't have to." Erik turned and looked at her in mock surprise.

"My dear, you're precious to me…as well as the tiny lives you carry within you. You deserve to be pampered in every way…and…" Erik paused, glancing at the dying sun through the window. "I'm not home like I should be, love…but I promise that it will change when the babies arrive…you won't be alone, I swear it."

Christine smiled. "Erik, I don't think you've been away too much…music is your passion, your love…"

Erik came forward quickly and pulled Christine close. He stared into her beautiful brown eyes. "You are my passion…you are my love…as will our children be. I will put you first before all things…without you, my music is nothing…haven't I told you enough? Don't you understand that without you, my music can't take flight? I love you…I don't tell you that enough."

"I love you too, Angel-" Christine was interrupted by the growling of her stomach. "Oh, I guess I'm hungrier than I thought…or at least the twins are."

Erik laughed. "Give me a moment for your bath, and then Brian and I will tackle dinner."

* * *

The next morning, Christine, Erik, and Brian made their way to the Opera Populaire. Christine and Erik held hands as Brian raced ahead of them, scaring the various birds on the sidewalk. Erik loved the 'normalcy' of just walking down the street with his family… he was grateful for the small moments like this. As soon as they entered the Opera House, Erik grabbed Brian from a dead run. 

"Hey there! Slow down, little bee…why don't you go find Nanny for a little while. Chrissy and I will be with you shortly." Brian scampered off to find his nanny group. Erik had no fears that Brian would be perfectly safe within the walls of the Opera Populaire. Erik and Christine continued through the front door when they heard the sound of chorus practice. Christine stopped suddenly.

"Practice in the auditorium! Elisabeth will be there…and I would like to see her. Let's make a detour, Erik." Erik reluctantly agreed. They headed for the large double doors at the top of the elaborate staircase.

Erik led Christine to a chair. They sat together, absorbed in the practice. Elisabeth noticed their presence, and smiled lightly to them.

"Erik! Christine! My, you're hear early…how are you feeling, Christine? I have not seen you in ages." Erik turned toward the voice and was saddened to discover the Vicomte strolling over to them. Erik sighed.

"Vicomte…how nice to see you…I'm surprised that you're up so early. Hoping for a glimpse of my sister?" Erik spoke with biting sarcasm, but as usual Raoul seemed unaffected. He smiled.

"Actually, I am taking Elisabeth out to breakfast…it has been a tradition of sorts, as you are aware. Christine, are you all right?" Erik glanced at Christine. She had turned a peculiar shade of white, and she was trembling slightly.

"I don't know…" Raoul glanced at the front of her dress and was surprised to discover a portion of it wet.

"Christine…did you have…some sort of accident?" Raoul said, the embarrassment plain on his face. Erik narrowed his eyes.

"You idiot! Her water just broke…it's all right, Christine…the babies are on the way." Christine was shaking violently. "Christine…listen to me! Everything is fine…this is normal…Christine!" Christine's eyes rolled into the back of her head and she collapsed forward in her chair. Erik grabbed her before her head hit the seat in front of her. Raoul was dancing anxiously behind Erik.

"What can I do? Is she all right?" Erik stood carefully and picked Christine up. He glanced at the Vicomte.

"I'll take Christine to her room…get the doctor, and tell Elisabeth what's going on."

"Why has she fainted?"

Erik glanced at Christine, the fear evident in his eyes. He was so concerned that he forgot to be horrible to the damn Vicomte. "I don't know, Raoul…just hurry."

Raoul turned on his heels quickly, running as fast as he could toward the doctor's office. Erik walked slowly toward a hidden passage in a shadowed part of the auditorium. The music still continued around him, and he was confident that no one saw him slip from the shadows and disappear with Christine in his arms.

* * *

Pain. Intense, rapid pain. The heat was unbearable. Christine could find no comfort anywhere. She didn't want to open her eyes. Something told her the pain would worsen if she awakened. What was going on? What were the vibrations she was feeling? She concentrated on her body, feeling the pain…she felt her stomach tense as her body cramped up hard…after what felt like ages, her body loosened. Ah…her babies…they were coming. Christine heard a voice calling to her… 

"Christine! Christine, if you can hear me, open your eyes! You need to open them, Christine. Listen to my voice…listen to your Angel of Music."

Angel of Music. Christine remembered her sweet Angel…she always did as the Angel instructed…but she was so tired, so sleepy…and the pain…

"Christine!" Her Angel's voice was growing more persistent now. Was he angry with her? Would her father be angry for her disobeying the Angel he had sent her? Why was everything so cloudy? Christine couldn't think clearly.

"**I am your Angel of Music; Come to me Angel of Music…"**

Christine felt the recognition flood her body, and her eyes snapped opened. A wave of pain nearly undid her, and she cried out. Instantly she felt a warm presence beside her.

"Christine!"

"Erik…what's going on? Where am I?" Christine struggled to sit up, but felt as if a giant weight had been placed upon her. She looked into her husband's haggard eyes.

"You had me worried, so very worried…you're in our bedroom in the Opera House, and you're in labor, love. How do you feel?"

Christine grimaced. "How do you think! I feel as though my insides are trying to escape from my body…AH!" Christine tensed as another contraction hit her. Erik held her tightly as the strain took its toll on her body. Erik was staring forward.

"There so close…they should not be so close…where is the damn doctor!" Christine glanced at him, sweat pouring down her face.

"Erik…something is wrong, I can feel it…I don't know what it is…"

Erik left her side and carefully parted her legs. He inspected for a moment, then leaned back to look at Christine. "Love…I think I need to find the DAMN DOCTOR NOW!"

"I'm here…please, everyone calm down. This is Madam Massenet's first pregnancy…they take ages, I'm afraid." The doctor walked into the room in a confident stride, but faltered when he met Erik's furious stare.

"Are you quite certain, Monsieur? I suggest you inspect my wife before you make such poor statements…" The doctor took Erik's position at the foot of the bed, and examined Christine.

"Oh my…you're right…"

Christine looked at Erik, fear in her eyes. "What do you mean? What's going on? Is something wrong?"

Erik took her hand gently. "My dear, you're nearly fully dilated…your back pains yesterday must have been early contractions…it's all right, the twins will just be here sooner than we thought."

The doctor confirmed the thought. "My nurses should be here shortly…Christine, I need you to release during your contractions; hold nothing back. Don't push…the time is not right. Your cervix is all most ready for your baby to come through; your pelvis is separating beautifully, from what I can tell. Everything is going well at this point."

The door burst opened suddenly. Erik rounded, furious at the obvious lack of regard and privacy, but the anger died when Madam Giry walked in, out of breath and red faced. She glanced at Erik.

"What were you going to do, hit me? Calm down! Move over!" Erik found himself automatically obeying. Madam Giry came towards Christine, who was breathing hard and fighting her muscles for control. "Erik, go and find some wet and cold compresses. Also, try to find some ice. It'll help to bite down on something."

"Are you out of your mind! I'm not leaving! You get your own ass out of the room and get your things." Madam Giry set Erik with a furious stare.

"You are stressed and worried; therefore I will forgive you for cursing at me. You will nevertheless do what I said if you truly want what's best for Christine."

Erik glanced at Christine, her beautiful face contorted in pain. She cried out and grabbed Madam Giry's hand.

"The pain! It's too much!" Erik could hardly stand to hear the anguish in Christine's voice. Madam Giry stroked her hair fondly.

"It's all right, my dear. I know, I know…breath in and out, Christine…that's it, that's it…breath through your mouth, not your nose." Madam Giry looked pointedly at Erik. Erik came towards the bed and grasped Christine's hand.

"I'll be back, love…" Christine nodded, and brought his hand to her lips.

"I'll be all right. AH!" Madam Giry held her shoulders.

"It's another contraction…don't fight it Christine…ride through it…that's it." Erik exited the room with Christine's screams echoing in the hallway around him.

Erik's only thoughts were finding the water and ice. He wasn't thinking clearly; he headed straight to Carlotta's old dressing room and into the secret passage behind the mirror. Erik traveled the old catacombs like he had never left, and he found his way to the kitchen. When he opened the secret passage door, his black robed figure scared the cook. Erik paid no mind to anything, and merely grabbed a basin of water, some kitchen towels and finally he tried to find ice, but found none to be had. Erik made his way back toward Christine's room in a flash. He nearly dropped his armful as he opened the door. There were several people in the room now…the majority of them were hanging around the 'business end' of his wife, as it were. Christine looked up as Erik entered, and she sighed in relief. Erik put the water on the bedside table. He wrung the towels and mopped at his wife's face.

"Oh, Erik…"

He held her hand. "I'm here, Christine…everything will be fine."

Christine closed her eyes briefly against the pain. "Sing for me, Erik…I need to hear your voice…" Erik paid no mind to the other people in the room. He sang softly, for her ears only…and Christine visibly relaxed her straining muscles. The doctor peered up from his inspection.

"Christine, your cervix is fully dilated…when you feel your next contraction, I want you to push as hard as you can…your first baby is in position."

Christine felt the tears begin to fall. She was so close…Erik still sang to her quietly, feeling the stress and worry leave her tired figure. Christine felt a contraction hit her, and Madam Giry grabbed her hard.

"All right, my dear, now the hard part…I want you to push! Now! As hard as you can, for as long as you can…bear down! NOW!" Christine screamed in her effort, and she squeezed Erik's hand hard, pushing it against her body. Erik could not feel his fingers…but that was not important. Christine was in more pain than he could possibly imagine…

"Christine, I have the head! Push, Christine, push!" The doctor yelled out suddenly. Finally Christine groaned, low and hard, and suddenly the room was filled with an infant's cry. Erik's eyes left Christine's as he looked at the wet bundle in the doctor's hands.

"A girl! You have a girl!" The doctor passed off the tiny infant to a nurse, who finished cleaning her off. Erik was half way up out of his seat.

"A girl…a girl…" Erik was amazed. Christine smiled for the first time since her labor started in earnest.

"Go tell me how beautiful our daughter is, Erik…count her fingers and toes." Erik reluctantly let go of his wife's hands and approached the screaming bundle. The nurse held her out to him.

"Go on…mind her head." Erik took the bundle from the nurse's arms, in absolute awe at the tiny creature in his hands. He lifted the blanket carefully to examine his daughter. She was perfect…her little eyes were still closed, but she had small tuffs of…blonde hair? Her face…was perfect. Erik's little girl ceased her screams. He watched in wonderment as his daughter opened her eyes for the first time…and revealed a vivid blue green. Erik felt the tears start to fall.

"Christine…she's perfect, just perfect." Erik didn't want to hand her back, but the nurse insisted she be taken to make sure everything was all right. Erik carefully passed his child to the waiting arms of the nurse. He went back to Christine, who was still straining with effort.

"Your next baby isn't in position yet…it may be a few minutes. Relax, and let the contractions come as you did before."

Christine focused on Erik's face. "Our daughter…what does she look like?"

Erik smiled. "She was blonde hair…where in the world did she get it from?"

Christine laughed softly. "My mother…she had blonde hair. Whose eyes?"

"Mine. They're my eyes…"

Christine closed her eyes. "Good…" She clenched as the next contraction hit her. Erik raised his eyes to the doctor's; he was frowning deeply.

"The baby…is turned around in the womb. We will have to see if the child will right itself…or I may have to do it manually." Erik could hear the fear in the man's voice. After several strained minutes, the doctor sighed. "Christine, I have to position the baby…you will feel me inside you…there will be pain. Hold on, Christine, and listen to my voice." Christine cried out as the doctor began his work. Erik held her tightly.

"Just hold on, Angel…we're almost there."

The doctor let out a satisfied noise. "All right, Christine, next contraction, and your other child will be here."

Christine turned to Erik, determination written into her face. "I will do this…we will be a family." Erik kissed her quickly and full of fire and hope. She moaned in his mouth as the final contraction consumed her. He held her, as Madam Giry murmured words of encouragement. Christine relaxed and slacked away. The doctor held the small baby in his arms, but no sound came from it. Erik's heart constricted with fear; the doctor pried the baby's mouth open with his pinkie finger and cleared the infant's throat. Erik felt relief fill him as the baby cried, the color changing from the pale blue of birth to a bright pink.

"Another girl. It's a girl!" The doctor inspected the baby. "Not identical twins." He passed her to the nurse.

"Doctor!"

The doctor turned his attention back to Christine. Christine squeezed Erik's hand. "Go…"

Erik found himself going to his second daughter. The nurse gave her to him. This time, Erik took the young infant to Christine. Christine took her in her arms. "My, what a smile…" Christine cooed to the baby as the infant continued to wail. Erik took a first look at his daughter. Thick curly black hair was perched on top of a delicate face; she opened her eyes…and Erik gasped, pulling away sharply. Her eyes…they were different colors! The left eye was a deep chocolate color, but the right…the bottom of the iris was the same brown color as the left…but the color dissipated into a clear green. Erik had never seen anything like it before. Christine looked at him in concern. "What's wrong, Erik?"

"Her eyes…" Christine looked down at the bright orbs staring into her own.

"Their beautiful," she said firmly. Christine smiled, a wonderful glowing smile that filled Erik completely. "Take her, love."

Erik took his daughter and handed her to the nurse. He returned to Christine.

"Our family…our daughters…" Christine stared into Erik's eyes. She grasped his hand. "Take care of them…" Erik looked at her sharply.

"What are you talking about…Christine! CHRISTINE!" Erik roared the last as Christine's hand went limp in his own. "NO! No…"

Erik felt hands on him. He struggled against them, knocking the hands away. "Let me go! Christine!"

"ERIK!" Madam Giry ran forward, grabbing him by the hand. "You must leave, Erik, you have to leave."

"No, no you can't take me from her!"

"If you love her you will let the doctor save her! Please…"

Erik mutely left the room. Madam Giry closed the door behind them. "No…stay with her…if I cannot, then you must…"

Madam Giry grabbed his arm. "Have faith, Erik…have faith…"

She went back into the room. Erik could hear the faint cries of his twin daughters before the door shut again. He slid his back against the wall as his legs refused to support his weight any longer. Erik was numb…his wife…his children. Rage filled him. He had a family! Finally, he had happiness! He knew love…and now it was being taken from him! Erik jumped up from his feet and slammed his fist against the hard wall. Erik's angelic voice filled the hallway with anguish as he lifted his voice to Heaven for the first time.

"Damn you! Damn you! I finally have a home…and you take it from me! Nurturing God…Caring God…you are none of these things! You are sadistic! You are unforgiving! Why give me Christine…why give me life! I am a mockery! Am I your never ending amusement?" Erik broke down. "Do not punish Christine for my sins…don't take back your Angel to cause me torment…take my own life, please, I beg this. Do not take away my home…my love…my soul. This monster that you created was turned into a man by her simply love! She is my everything…and she undid all the pain and torment that I have endured my whole life. Do not take her for changing me…do not…"

Erik sobbed, the tears falling hard across his face. He sank to the floor, pounding the ground with his raw fist. He tore his mask from his face. "This is your creation! See your monster…it didn't matter to her…for the first time, I am loved for who I am…See your monster, reduced to a sniveling beggar. Don't take her…don't take her…" His prayers and pleas fell on deaf ears. Erik barked out a laugh through his tears. "I am wasting my time…wasting my energy."

Erik stood and brushed himself off. He glanced at his white mask, so pristine and clear against the hard black floor. He stared at it mockingly. "You are my prison no more."

A strong hand grabbed his shoulder. Erik felt a warm breath against his neck. He whirled around…but no one was there. Erik called into the empty hallway:

"Who is it? Who is there?"

Again, he felt the shiver of a breath against his body. "Christine?" It felt like her, the light and warmth was something he had always associated with her. "I can't, Christine…I can't live without you."

The touch intensified. "Tell me you will live! Tell me you will come back to me!" The touched lessened. "Don't leave me…Christine!"

Suddenly, he was alone again. All resolve left him. He fell to the floor once more, and sobbed, wishing he could join his wife in death. Erik heard footsteps pounding the hallway, but refused to look up. A figure skidded to halt before him.

"Erik! What's going on?" Raoul kneeled beside Erik. "What's happened?"

"I have daughters…two beautiful, perfect little girls…no flaws…"

"And Christine?"

"They don't know…but I do. She's dying."

Raoul shook Erik's shoulder hard. "No! Don't think that! She is strong, Erik…don't lose faith in her." Erik shook his head.

"I would never lose faith in her, Raoul…only in myself."

Raoul glanced at Erik, his gaze finding his injured hand. "What the Hell did you do to yourself? You didn't do that type of damage hitting the doctor's face, did you? He is still alive, right?" Erik looked at Raoul wearily, then looked at his hand. It was raw and bloody, but Erik felt no pain. Raoul leaned against the wall beside Erik. Erik was silent.

"I love her, you know." Erik turned sharply.

"I know you do."

"I have loved her since I was twelve years old, Erik…she was my first love. But it was a childish love. An immature love."

"I can understand that."

Raoul cleared his throat. "If you are not able to take on the responsibilities of being her husband, then I will take over as someone who loves her."

Erik growled low in his throat. "You will do no such thing."

"Then snap out of it, man! Christine needs you now more than ever…you have to be her rock. Go in that room and save her, Erik…curse the doctors! It is your voice she needs to hear…"

Erik looked at Raoul as if seeing him for the first time. "You are right…what am I doing out here! I have to go to her." Erik rose quickly. Raoul stood awkwardly too.

"I'll go back to Elisabeth…tell her what's going on." Raoul turned to leave when Erik grabbed his shoulder.

"Thank you, Raoul…go to my sister. There isn't anyone I'd rather entrust her with…"

Raoul nodded and headed off. Erik reached down and picked up his discarded mask and slipped it on.He re-entered the room. The doctor was still working furiously; Madam Giry raised her eyebrows at Erik. He ignored her. Erik went straight to Christine.

"Listen to me, Angel…stay with me, love. I'm here, and I will not leave again."

The doctor sighed. He wiped his hands together. "I have done all I can…the bleeding is controlled. Christine lost a lot of blood, Monsieur…I know not if she will live. If she survives the night, she should have a chance. I have done all I can…I am terribly sorry."

Erik nodded silently. "And my girls?"

The doctor smiled. "They are as healthy as can be…good birth weight, good color, and you heard their wonderful set of lungs! They should be fine…"

"What about food? They will be hungry, and Christine is in no position…"

Madam Giry spoke up. "We can get milk, Erik…it won't be the same as breast milk, but it will nourish them until Christine awakens." The doctor nodded his approval.

"I won't be far…would you like me to talk to your sister? Explain to her what's going on?" Erik shook his head.

"Tell Stefan and Raoul first…have Raoul tell Elisabeth."

The doctor nodded and left quietly. The nurses filed out, leaving Madam Giry and Erik alone with Christine and the babies.

"I will go for the milk, Erik…I will return. If they cry, comfort them. You will know what to do." As soon as the door shut again, the cries of one of his daughters alerted him. It was his firstborn. He picked her up gently and sat in the chair by Christine. He talked softly to his little daughter.

"This is your mother, little one. You haven't met her yet. She is a sweet soul, little one. My, what a little golden child you are!" Erik blew softly across her face, tickling her gently. The infant raised her hand and grasped one of her father's slender fingers. Erik was amazed at the strength of his young daughter. "You are a strong one, aren't you?" The baby yawned and closed her blue green eyes. Erik put her in the bassinet with her sister. He turned back toward his own Angel, pale and drawn. She was so fragile…

"You have to pull through, Christine…you have to."

* * *

Christine found herself standing in a warm bright light. _Is this a dream? Must be_…all she saw was white; the glare was blinding. She was alone…completely and utterly. Christine glanced around at her surroundings. There was no door, no floor, no walls…where was she? 

"Christine…"

Christine turned towards the voice. Her eyes widened suddenly.

"Papa?" A tall man stood before her, handsome and debonair. He smiled at her gently, and nodded. Christine rushed into his arms. "Papa! I can't believe it…is it really you?"

"It is, my child…how I've missed you! You've grown into a lovely young woman…your mother would be proud." Christine turned her head back in forth.

"Will I see her too?"

Christine's father hesitated. "No, daughter, you won't…there is a reason why we are together, Angel…you're just outside of Heaven's Gates."

Christine stepped back in shock. "No…no, that isn't right…I'm dreaming, and soon I'll wake up to the sounds of my babies…they need me…Erik needs me."

Her father scoffed. "That impudent man does not deserve you, my dear…he never has. You deserve this now…Heaven waits for you." Christine looked are her father in surprise.

"I love Erik, Papa…he is the father of your grandchildren! How can you say such things! I need to see Erik..." Christine started walking away from her father. She saw a space forming before her; a window into the real world. She peered through it, and sure enough, she saw Erik out in the hallway of their room…he was crying, yelling…and _praying_?

"_Do not punish Christine for my sins…don't take back your Angel to cause me torment…take my own life, please, I beg this… This is your creation! See your monster…it didn't matter to her…for the first time, I am loved for who I am."_

Christine felt the anguished tears begin to fall from her face. The sadness of the world was back in her beloved's eyes. She could not leave Erik…she had to get to him. Christine pushed against the window; it grew larger, and she slipped through. She could see Erik…she was with him. Christine touched his shoulder. Erik whirled around, looking for the unseen force, and found nothing. Christine saw his mouth move, but no words came forth. She looked at Erik in surprise.

"Angel, I'm here…I'm not leaving…" Christine saw him mouth her name. "That's right! I'm here…"

"You can't hear him, Christine…not any longer." Christine turned to look at her father.

"How can you do this? This is the man I love…my soul-mate. I cannot be parted from him, not now…it is too soon."

Christine's father shook his head. He gestured sharply to Erik, who was frozen in time. "This _thing_ is beyond redemption, Christine…all you do is taint yourself with his evil soul."

"That's not true! He is good, I know…I see it in him!"

"Your choice was made for you, Christine…and yet you disobeyed fate and chose your own path…have you ever wondered about the road not taken? Ever wondered what kind of life you would have had if you had taken the right path? The easy path? The path you deserved? Now is the time, Christine, for you to know!" Christine's father pushed her forward into a dark hole in the brilliant light. Christine screamed and shut her eyes tightly.

"Mama? Are you all right?"

Christine opened her eyes to find herself in a brightly lit nursery. A young boy of seven was staring at her with big blue eyes, full of concern.

"I'm fine, Alexander…go finish playing with your brothers." Alexander? Brothers? Christine was disorientated, to say the least. Where was she? Christine tried to sort out her jumbled thoughts. She was a new woman, in a different life. She was felt like nobility, and she lived in every comfort imaginable. Jewels, clothes, beautiful home, the best tutors for her children…Christine had it all. She leaned back in a comfy chair, feeling the plush fabric around her. A woman dressed in a crisp black uniform approached her.

"Vicomtess, your husband wanted to inform you that he is in the library, should you wish to see him."

"Thank you, Charlotte," Christine said automatically. Vicomtess...she must be married to Raoul. She walked from the room and down a hall that she seemed to know well…but she didn't. _What's going on? Why can't I remember; something important has happened_…Christine knocked on the large library door.

"Come in! Christine! I'm glad you came by…" Raoul came from around his desk, looking the same as always…perhaps a bit older. He kissed her lightly on her cheek, and Christine's hand flew to her face. Where was the passion? The fire…Raoul did not kiss her as a husband to a wife…not like Erik kissed her.

Erik…where did Erik fit in this new life? Was he still under the Opera Populaire? Did he still sing songs in her head? Christine could find herself recalling various details about her new life: Meg was getting married, Raoul's birthday was in two weeks…but she could not remember anything about Erik. Was that intentional?

"I have invited the Baron to come for tea…I won't entertain long. I have a business trip starting tomorrow morning, and I shall not return for quite some time; you understand, my dear, business is business."

Christine sighed. "Yes, of course…but what about the children? They never see you, Raoul…" Raoul laughed.

"They never see you either! What with all the luncheons and events you host…I daresay their nanny knows them better! But that is quite all right, my dear…it is how it should be."

Christine closed her eyes briefly. So this is what life would be like with Raoul…not worrying about money, others raising their children, she herself entertaining the well to do like the proper nobleman's wife. Well, perhaps one thing hadn't changed…

"Where is the music room, Raoul? I have the greatest urge to sing." Raoul looked at her in shock.

"My dear, you have not sung a note since that night at the Opera Populaire…when that monster took you captive."

Christine rounded on him, anger flashing in her eyes. "He is not a monster! How dare you…"

Raoul held up his hands defensively. "Christine! What's gotten in to you? It doesn't matter, anyway, my dear…the Opera Ghost has been dead for years! You know that…"

Christine felt her insides grow cold. "What?"

Raoul gave Christine a funny look. "Are you feeling well, Christine? Don't you remember? A mob swarmed his lair…they couldn't find him, but Madam Giry discovered his body sometime later…bullet to the chest; no one in the mob swore to doing the deed…maybe the damn ghost committed suicide! I have to say, I was rather relieved. I did not think he fully intended for you to leave with me in the first place."

Christine felt the tears begin to blur her vision. She muttered her excuses to Raoul, then fled, racing up stairs and finding herself in a large room. It was clearly her room…but it had a single bed. _Raoul and I don't even share a bed_…Dead. Erik was dead…of course! If Christine hadn't turned back after the mob had destroyed Erik's lair, he would have most certainly have died from his injuries…but Christine, Meg, and Madam Giry had saved him. Damn! The empty feeling grew inside of her. She had a thought. Christine moved to her jewelry box. If time had been so altered; if events had been so changed…there! Christine pulled an old ring out of the jewelry box. It was badly tarnished, but it still shown against the white of her hand. Christine held Erik's ring close to her heart. She rummaged through her jewels and found a simple gold chain. Christine ran the ring through the chain, then slipped it on. It hung just over her heart. Christine felt the sadness overtake her, and she threw herself on the unfamiliar bed and cried.

A few hours a later, a servant came to help her dress for the tea with the Baron. Christine knew, from her new life memories, that the Baron was an evil, piggy man with a vicious temper…Christine hated the idea of Raoul hanging around him. She walked elegantly down the steps, her curls swept up off her neck with several gold pins. As she entered, the three seated guests rose in greeting.

"My dear! So glad you could join us…this is the Baron Von Kempt…and this is his, ah,-"

"Female companion will do nicely, Vicomte. I am Elisabeth."

Christine glanced at the girl in shock. It was Elisabeth all right; her black hair was in a fashionable hair do, and her gown was of expensive silk. Christine inclined her head in greeting. The two men began to talk in earnest about business, leaving the two ladies to converse in private.

"I do hate business talks, don't you, Vicomtess? They are so very boring…"

Christine leaned forward a bit. "Elisabeth, do you recognize me?"

Elisabeth looked at her strangely. "Madam, I have just met you…what do you mean?"

Christine pressed on. "You have a brother, Erik…and a younger brother, Brian…you lived outside the village of Calais…I know you, Elisabeth!"

Elisabeth looked at her, the classy façade dropping slightly to reveal the scared girl within. "You are mistaken…I have no brother named Erik…but I watched my baby brother Brian die before my eyes. If you know me, then you must know my situation!" Her voice was but a whisper. "My stepfather…he sold me to this Baron…I am but a prisoner…he killed my brother, for my disobedience…if you know me, Vicomtess, then help me!"

The conversation between them abruptly ended as Raoul and the Baron shook hands, sealing some deal. Elisabeth's eyes cleared, and again she became the haughty mistress of her Baron, kindly taking his arm when offered. She shot Christine one last haunted look…

Raoul put his hand on his wife's arm; Christine jumped in shock. Raoul gave her an inquisitive look, but she shook it off.

"I have to go, Raoul…there is something I must do. I don't know when I'll be back." Raoul shrugged.

"All right, Christine…I'll see you when I return from my business trip."

Christine ran to the stables, ignoring the strange looks the servants were giving her. Before saddling her horse, she noticed a small, glittering knife perched on an unused stall. Something possessed her to take the knife; she slipped it within the folds of her dress. Christine saddled a horse, and rode as fast as she could from the De Chagny Estate. She went to the only person she thought could help her; the only person who had ever been of help to her in desperate need: Madam Giry.

Christine crossed the threshold of the Opera Populaire, and went straight to Madam Giry's room. She didn't even knock, she just walked right in. Madam Giry looked up in shock and bewilderment.

"Christine! I have not seen you since you married Raoul…what's wrong?"

Christine crossed her arms over her chest. "Erik. Where is Erik?"

Madam Giry's eyes softened slightly, but a question was hiding behind them. "He's dead, Christine…you know that."

"Where is he!"

Madam Giry cast her eyes to her feet before glaring at Christine fiercely. "Are you mad, Christine? Why do you care? You left here without a second glance…you gave up everything to be with the Vicomte. How can you return now, and expect me to tell you where he is? He died, Christine, alone, in the dark…in pain. Do you think I took him to a graveyard? A church, perhaps? No, dear Christine…if you want to see the poor creature that loved you, then you must travel to the dungeons of a black despair…Erik remains in his lair, Christine…I couldn't bear to separate him from his only home." Without a word, Christine turned and ran from the room, running as fast as she could as she made her way down the familiar old passage ways. She crossed the lake, emerging on the other side cold and shivering, but she didn't care…Christine gasped as she looked at Erik's lair…

It had not been used in some time; that much was obvious. Dust littered the ground…Erik's beloved pipe organ was in tatters. Christine closed her eyes and tried to imagine their music…but she could not. The magic, the mystery…it was gone from this place. Christine walked slowly to the back of the lair, where the ground became dirt. A small marker had been placed in the ground…it merely said, in bold and plain letters:O.G. Christine fell to her knees on the patch of dirt, and withdrew the small ring from the chain around her neck. She placed it on the grave, and she wept. She cried and screamed:

"I will not live without him! No life is worth that! I do not regret my choices! You can't take him from me! I would rather burn in Hell!"

"You don't know what you ask, Christine."

Christine turned to find Erik leaning against the wall. She gasped. "Erik…" She walked toward him, tried to touch him, but her hand went through him. He was a ghost…a specter.

"You would give up Heaven to live in Hell with me? Do you think that is what I want for you? I loved you with all my heart…and even though I knew you couldn't return my love, knowing that you were happy was enough for me. I died with peace because I knew you would be loved and honored for the rest of your days! Why condemn yourself, Christine, for me!"

Christine was crying soft, sad tears. "You don't know the life that I do…you and I are together…we're happy…we have a family…and I spend every day thanking God that I made the right decision…to stay with you."

Erik turned, his eyes glowing in anger. "You lie! You didn't choose me…you chose your precious Vicomte! Even now…you are a viper. I loved you once, wretch, but no longer! In death I am more powerful than you can ever imagine!" Erik rose, his tall frame filling Christine with shadow. "You will fear me, Christine…fear cannot turn to love…it never can…you could never love a monster."

"No! You will not make my choice for me! If to be with you means the fires of Hell, then so be it!"

Christine pulled the small knife she had carried within her dress. Erik reached for her. "No, Christine! NO!" She held it up so the point gleamed in the dim light of the lair. Christine closed her eyes tightly, waiting for the pain. It never came.

"Christine…Christine…" Christine opened her eyes to find herself back where she had started…the blank white blanket. She was staring into the eyes of her father.

"You have chosen. Younow knowexactly what it was you were giving up, and you still chose your own path…I could not be prouder of you, my daughter. I am sorry to put you through this ordeal…but it had to be so."

Christine nodded. "I am strong…because of you. And because of my Angel of Music…tell me, Papa…did you really send Erik to me?"

Christine's father just smiled. "What do you think, Little Lotte? You have changed him, little one…and even when your father disapproved, you still were adamant about your love for him. It was a test, my dear…one that you have passed. Did I keep my promise?"

"Yes…you did. I love you, Papa."

"And I you, little one. We will be together one day…just not now." A beautiful woman joined him, holding on to his hand tightly. Christine's throat closed painfully. The blonde curls…the familiar brown eyes…Christine was looking at her mother for the first time.

"Goodbye, Christine…know that we will watch over you…"

The light around Christine flashed brightly, and Christine was plunged into darkness.

* * *

**Author's note 2:** Ok, guys…don't kill me. I just couldn't put all the stuff I wanted to in one chapter…it would have been a giant super chapter, and ya'll might have gotten tired of reading it…this way is better, BWHAHA Lol. Tell me what you think in a nice review…Thanks for reading! 


	18. An Angel's Return

**Demons of the Past**

**Ch. 18: An Angel's Return**

**Author's note:** This is the second part of the birth chapter…I will write in a few new perspectives…I hope you like! By the way…I have hit the coveted one hundred review mark…and I would like to say how awesome I think all you guys are. Thank you for making me feel special…Lol- I also wanted to say that I have taken some liberties with Raoul's past...I have mixed the stage show and Leroux.

**P.S.: To Son Kat:** I am so glad that you liked the chapter, my friend. And although I am fond of your friend Emily, I shall not be naming one of the twins 'Spongebetty' I'm sure she'll understand…(won't you, **Emily?**)

**Glitter Queen of the Ice Show:** I dedicate this chapter to you, my devoted reviewer. I appreciate you taking the time to review the number of times you do! Thanks and hugs!

_Disclaimer: I own the TWINS!…but not the Phantom of the Opera characters._

And now, on with the story.

* * *

The silence in M. Javere's office was deafening as the Opera House doctor finished his prognosis for Christine. Stefan stood silent by the door, closest to the doctor. Raoul broke the somberness.

"I see…are you sure?" The doctor nodded his head sadly, and Raoul bowed his head. Stefan hung his head in shock.

"What are her chances?" Stefan said quietly. The doctor sighed.

"I'd say the odds are fifty-fifty. All I know is that I've done all I can…and Monsieur Massenet wished me to come to you, and I have. He also asks that you, Monsieur Vicomte, be the one to tell Mademoiselle Massenet…I imagine she will want to visit, and I would like to say that the idea is good…but not for long. Christine is unconscious, and the Maestro…is not himself." The doctor looked at Stefan in dismay. "I feel as if I have failed her, Monsieur Javere…I have failed her when she put her trust in me…I offer my resignation to you, Manager, as doctor of the Opera Populaire…"

Stefan put his hand on the doctor's shoulder. "You have done all you could possible do, Doctor; you're only human…and I refuse your resignation. You are a good doctor…don't let this keep you from using your gifts to save people that could benefit from your aid."

"I bid your leave then, Manager."

Raoul stood in silence, staring at the walls of Stefan's office. Stefan approached him.

"My boy, are you all right?" Raoul almost broke a smile at the fathering tone Stefan used, but under the circumstances, his face felt as if were chiseled from stone.

"I just can't believe it…Christine…she is so young! She shouldn't be the first to go…I should! I would take her place in a heartbeat…"

"Don't say that! Elisabeth needs you, Raoul…now more than ever! Her family is falling apart…you have to be there for her!"

Raoul felt some energy return to him. "I know…I will go to her now. What will you do, my friend?"

Stefan sighed. "I will return to Erik…I must offer my help in anyway…and I know my friend. He will not be himself without Christine."

Raoul turned away. "How right you are, Stefan." He added, under his breath. "You might want to keep your hands at the level of your eyes…"

"What was that last?"

"Nothing, Stefan. Good luck."

"And you, my friend."

* * *

Elisabeth paced the small room she was in. Brian was still in his nursery room, oblivious to all except that his Chrissy was having the babies…Meg sat crossed-legged on her bed, watching her in mild amusement.

"Elisabeth, are you trying to wear a path in my floor? Will you calm down! Christine will be fine…and the babies as well. You worry too much."

"Meg, someone should have come for us before now…something is wrong, can't you see!"

Meg got off the bed and stopped her friend by grabbing her shoulders. "Please, Elisabeth…it does us no good to think of what might go wrong…Christine might as well been born my sister; we are so very close…and I know that you have a bond with her as well. We can't do this…" She hugged Elisabeth tightly.

"You're right, Meg…what do you want to do?"

Meg fiddled in a drawer. "I have cards!"

They settled on the floor, playing rummy over and over again. Eventually there was a knock on the door. Elisabeth glanced at Meg excitedly, and flung open the door. Raoul stood there…his appearance was enough to tell Elisabeth that something was wrong. Normally he looked so put together…he stood before her now in rumpled and wrinkled clothes…his hair was unbound and hung limply in his eyes. His hazel eyes had taken on a dull hue…Elisabeth gasped and put a hand to her mouth.

"What has happened, Raoul…what has happened?"

Raoul entered the room, taking Elisabeth by the hand. Meg stared, wide eyed. Raoul glanced at Meg, and gestured for her to take a hand as well. The two women held one another close.

"There is no easy way to say this…Christine delivered twin girls…but she herself had complications…the doctor is unsure whether she will live the night."

Meg wrenched herself away from Elisabeth. She dashed from the room. Elisabeth stood still for a moment, then slid to the floor. She hugged herself with her slender arms and sobbed. Raoul kneeled beside her and opened his arms. Elisabeth threw herself into them, letting the tears fall into Raoul's shoulder. She was surprised to feel hot tears on her shoulder as well. Together, they held each other tight. The embrace was that of pure sadness in its most concentrated form. The world was so unsure around them; they found comforting solace in one another's arms. Raoul pulled away first. He wiped away Elisabeth's tears.

"Do you want to see her?"

Elisabeth nodded solemnly. "Raoul…I don't know what I'm going to do…but Erik will need me." Raoul let her go reluctantly. He turned to lead the way when he felt the feel of a warm hand slip into his own.

"If you don't mind…"

Raoul smiled through the tears welling inside him. "No, Elisabeth, I don't."

* * *

Meg ran. She ran as fast as she could, desperate to find some kind of truth to counteract the lies that Raoul had said…if she ran fast enough, perhaps Christine would appear from one of the doorways and tell her that a lady didn't run, like she did when they were children…Meg collided with a figure in black as she turned the corner.

"Damn! What in the world…Meg?" Her mother's voice rose from the floor. Meg had hit the ground hard, and was surprise to find the floor damp.

"What were you carrying?"

Madam Giry scowled as she brushed herself off. "Food…milk…all kinds of things that I really needed, and now are ruined! Meg, why were you running around in the first place? You could have hurt yourself!"

"You mean worse than I already am?" Meg held up her bleeding elbow as evidence. Madam Giry groaned in sympathy.

"Come back to the kitchen with me and will get you cleaned up…I'll ask one of the servants to clean up this mess."

Meg and her mother headed back to the kitchen. The cook was talking rapidly with a young maid.

"I swear, it was him! Tall man, dressed in black…"

"Did you see his face?"

"No…it was in shadow…almost as if he didn't have a face! It was him, the Phantom of the Opera…"

Madam Giry interrupted them with a cough. "Stop this foolish talk, Cook, or I'll see you fired for spreading nasty rumors…stop scaring the poor maid!"

The cook downcast his eyes. "Yes, Madam."

"Young lady, there is a mess in the hallway that could do with some attention…"

The maid nodded and left in a hurry. Madam Giry got some cold rags and washed off Meg's elbow. She found a first aid kit under the sink and proceeded to bandage it up.

"Now, will you tell me why were you running as though the Devil was chasing you?"

Meg glanced at her mother. "Raoul…he said that Christine…but it's not true, is it Mother? She's going to be all right, isn't she?"

Madam Giry looked away. "I don't know, my little Meg…I don't know. All we can do is help as much as we can…why don't you walk with me to Christine's room? I was going to bring Erik some milk for the babies…and some food; he hasn't eaten anything all day. Come with me, my dear…we won't stay long."

Meg and Madam Giry gathered fresh supplies and headed back down the hallway. As they approached the door, they noticed a man standing outside.

"Stefan! What are you doing?"

He was staring at the door. "Erik…he just kicked me out…politely."

"Politely?"

He shrugged. "I knocked, I entered, I gave my condolences, and before I could open my mouth again he just looked at me and said, 'Not now, Stefan…not ever.' I…he's…he seemed to know exactly what I was going to say before I even said it…I was going to suggest that he leave for a little while…take a moment. And now I find myself standing outside the door, thinking, 'He just kicked me out!'"

Madam Giry just stared at him. "Right, Stefan…perhaps you need to lie down. We'll take care of everything." Stefan nodded and walked away. Madam Giry knocked three times on the door.

"Enter," a soft voice spoke through the heavy wooden door. Madam Giry carefully opened the door and walked into the room. She placed her burdens on a desk, and motioned for Meg to do the same. Madam Giry turned toward Erik. He was slouching in the chair beside Christine, holding her small hand entwined in his own. He glanced up and met her eyes.

"They're asleep…both of them. Christine…she hasn't moved."

Meg came toward her friend slightly. She hated to see Christine like this. She was deathly pale, and her normally bright facial features were a subdued grayish tone. Meg stroked her hair and murmured softly to her friend. She glanced at her mother.

"I have some things to take care of…Erik, your daughters are beautiful…take care of things, all right?" Erik raised his melancholy blue green eyes to Meg's blue ones.

"I will, Meg…thank you for coming."

Madam Giry came toward Erik, placing a hand on his arm. "Erik…you haven't eaten anything today…won't you now?" Erik shook his head.

"I don't have an appetite right now, Marie…I thank you for your consideration." Erik's voice was dry and unemotional. Madam Giry sighed.

"All right, my dear…"

Twin cries filled the room as the twins decided that the time had come for some attention. Erik rose from his chair and went to the bassinet. He picked up one of his daughters, carrying her back to the chair.

"Can you hand me that milk, Marie…if you don't mind, you can feed her sister while I feed her…" Madam Giry handed him a bottle.

"Do you know what to do, Erik?"

Erik glanced at Madam Giry, then looked at the gurgling infant in his arms. A ghost of a lopsided grin appeared on his face. "I haven't the slightest…"

Madam Giry laughed. "Not as confident as you appear, are you? Take the bottle in your right hand, and cradle your daughter in the crook of your left arm. Gently angle the bottle; let her take her time…she may not drink all of this, it will be her first time…carefully now, that's it." Erik did as he was instructed, and his little daughter latched on to the tip of the bottle with ease. Soft sucking sounds accompanied the vision of his daughter; her curly tuft of black hair stood out sharply against her pale skin, her mix-matched eyes staring intently into her father's. Erik was absolutely entranced with this tiny infant of his own creation. His and Christine…no one else's. He glanced at Madam Giry feeding his other daughter. All you could see of the infant was a little peek of blonde hair…who would have thought that he would have a blonde child? Seeing his children almost made his mind ease…almost. The little one in his arms finished her meal. Erik got up from the chair and made his way back to the bassinet.

"Erik…you have to burp her."

Erik looked bewildered. "Burp her?"

Madam Giry motioned for Erik to watch her. "Babies can't expel gas on their own…you have to pat their backs gently to relieve the pressure…if you don't, it causes them a lot of pain." She demonstrated with the infant in her hands. Erik followed suit.

Once the babies were put safely in their crib, silence once again overtook the small room. Madam Giry glanced at Erik.

"Have you thought of names for your girls yet?"

Erik didn't turn his attention away from Christine. "No. I have not. I'm waiting for Christine to awaken."

"Ah…well, you know, I'm partial to 'Marie'…it is a good name."

Erik smiled a little. "I'll keep that in mind, Marie…Listen, will you do me a favor?"

"Of course…"

"Will you head off Elisabeth? I have a feeling she'll want to be here…and I don't want her to…I can't…" Madam Giry looked at him in full understanding.

"Consider it done, my dear…have faith. Try and get some sleep; I'll be in later to check on you…and eat something, for God's sake!"

Erik finally breathed a sigh of relief as Madam Giry left. He was alone…not that he wanted to be. He wanted Christine to awaken, wanted her to live and smile and laugh…Weariness was beginning to settle over his eyes, but he ignored it. Erik looked at the food Marie had brought. He smiled to himself: she had brought him peanut butter sandwiches…the last time he had had one of those, he had been a lad of ten…and they had shared them together. For Erik, there was no better comfort food than that, although Marie was the only one to know. Erik grabbed a sandwich and nibbled at it. He sat back in his chair and leaned back as he eyed his wife. Christine still was unconscious…but Erik could see the rapid movement of her eyes from behind her lids. He took that as a good sign…and there were so few to be had.

This was exactly what he had been afraid of…he had been worried for her life the moment she had told him of her pregnancy. Erik had overreacted the night she had told him, but the feeling wouldn't leave him. Was it wrong to choose your wife over your children? Erik would have preferred to have children if Christine's health would have been assured, but the dangers were too great. He wished…how he wished…he stopped himself before he could finish his thought. Did he mean that he wished his children had never been born? Before today, Erik had believed that if faced with a choice, he would always choose Christine…but seeing his baby girls, there tiny forms so insignificant in the world…they needed his protection. Erik began to feel as Christine had always felt since the beginning. Christine had protected them, given them life and comfort; now, Erik had to be the protector. He had to be their father. It was too late…Erik loved his daughters more than he thought imaginable. He had thought that there was just room enough in his heart to love Christine…but he was wrong. What would he do if he had to raise them alone? Could he? Without Christine? Erik didn't want to think about it for the same reason he had not yet named his daughters. Christine was going to wake up…she would not leave him. Erik finished his meager meal and went to inspect his girls. They were both asleep, their chubby faces a picture of peace and comfort. Erik took solace in their beauty for a moment…they looked so much like their mother. He cautiously reached his hand into the bassinet and stroked his daughter's jet black hair. So much like his own…he looked them over carefully now, noting Christine's nose…or a dimple. One of his daughters had a large freckle just behind her little ear. Erik memorized their every feature, knowing that he would remember this moment for the rest of his life. It was a perfect moment…and yet, Christine should be at his side, admiring their work in creation as she clung to his side, his hand holding her close by the waist. They could not be a family until his Angel returned to him.

Erik sighed softly and withdrew his hand. He had never felt so helpless in his life…he was truly at a loss. There was nothing he could do now…the situation was beyond his control. Erik loved the feel of being in charge of one's life, fate, and destiny. He had lived alone for so long that his will was automatically done. One of the things Erik had learned in his marriage was that it was a compromise…not a dictatorship. Erik had become used to giving in to Christine…little things like what time to get up in the morning, what kind of breakfast to serve…but this was something he couldn't give in to. Christine had to live…if not, Erik didn't think he could live on without her. She was his reason for life; without her, he would have long since died and gone to whatever Hell would claim him. If Christine…_died_…Erik didn't want to think about it. His girls would need him; he couldn't just waste away. But he knew that inside he would be dead…his music would die, his art would die…and his love would die. Would he become the hated man he once was? Christine changed his soul…without her there was no hope for him.

Erik crossed the room, sitting in the now uncomfortable chair…it was a chair of waiting now…and grabbed Christine's hand. Erik stroked the back of it softly, feeling the cold dampness upon his warm flesh. If only she would stir! If only she would give some sign that she would live…The sound of the soft breathing of Christine and the babies, mingled with the heat of the room, and coupled with the fact that Erik now had a full stomach caused Erik's eyes to begin to droop. He would not go to sleep! If Christine stirred while he was oblivious to her…or if the babies needed something, and he didn't wake…no, Erik had gone days without sleep before; he could do it again. The lull of the room began to whither his resolve. Maybe he would close his eyes for just a moment…he wouldn't go to sleep, he would merely rehydrate his eyes, and then open them to remain wide awake. Within seconds, Erik had fallen into a deep slumber.

* * *

"What do you mean, 'he doesn't want me to come'! I'm his only sister…I have to help him!"

Madam Giry glanced at the red faced Elisabeth. "My dear, if you want to help your brother, then respect his wishes…things are difficult right now. Erik is trying to handle his situation as best he can, but he is best when he is left alone. He will alert us if any changes occur in Christine or the babies…what we have to do now is continue with our lives. Now, I know you do not dance, Elisabeth, so I have no authority over you as Ballet Mistress…but I must insist that you retire to a practice room and sing for your upcoming audition. That is what Erik would want, I can guarantee it. The world can't stop, Elisabeth, no matter how much we might wish it."

Elisabeth felt the color of anger recede from her face, leaving it the pale face of sadness. Her eyes were large and puffy from crying, her cheeks splotched with light pink to indicate the trail of unwiped tears. Raoul had his hand around her waist, supporting her gently. She had swayed at the ill news and Raoul had thought she would faint. Elisabeth cleared her raw throat.

"I cannot sing, Madam…I have no voice left. I have no emotions left but sadness…"

Raoul smoothed her hair gently. "My dear, perhaps it would be best if we went to dinner? You have not eaten today, I know. We can get away from the Opera Populaire for a little while, then return as soon as we have completed the meal. Please, Elisabeth…you have to have your strength."

Elisabeth turned her cheerless eyes to Raoul. "I am in no condition to go out in public, Raoul…and I have no wish to."

Raoul sighed. "Then let me take you to my home for supper. No one is home but me…you can relax there."

Madam Giry cleared her throat. "Vicomte, I do not believe that escorting a young lady to your place of residence would be the wisest thing…once a young maiden's reputation is lost, it is impossible to replace…I know that you have the purest intentions…but people would talk."

Raoul grimaced, remembering the talk surrounding his relationship with Christine…it had all started because he had known her from childhood and asked to see her alone in her dressing room…well, perhaps now, as he thought upon it, that course of action wasn't the wisest to take.

"You are quite right Madam Giry…please, Elisabeth, reconsider going to the small café outside. It is the dinner hour, and they are busiest at lunch…we can bring Erik back something." Elisabeth brightened at the suggestion.

"All right…and I am hungry. We can eat quickly and be back here in no time! I shall go and change…I will meet you in the front lobby."

Raoul turned to Madam Giry. "Would you and Meg like to accompany us? We would be honored."

Madam Giry shook her head. "I intend to remain here and keep everyone away from Erik and Christine…I know they mean well, but now is not the time for condolences and pity; and I daresay that Meg is at a ballet practice…she is teaching the young ones basic positions. I don't think she would say no to something brought back for her, though."

Raoul nodded. "Consider it done. Do you want anything?"

"No…I find myself unable to think of food…I am just so worried about Christine…but I worry more for Erik."

"What do you mean?"

She sighed. "I don't know if he knows how to live without Christine. He has loved her for so long…Erik would sooner join her in death than stay behind, but he has a responsibility now to his daughters. He cannot fail them."

Raoul nodded. He straightened his jacket. "I…can hardly imagine Erik as a father. It's just hard to see."

"Every man has the opportunity, Monsieur…but daughters are the key. Every woman in this world is a daddy's girl…a daddy's sweetheart. Erik will develop a bond with his daughters quickly, Vicomte."

Raoul grimaced. "I pity the poor souls who will try to court them…he will be more protective with his daughters than he is with Elisabeth."

"You speak truth, Vicomte…if you'll excuse me, I must check on Meg's class. Just because I allow her to teach it doesn't mean that I mustn't inspect her unexpectedly."

Raoul grabbed her arm before she passed him. "Madam…is Meg all right? She was very distraught after I told her the bad news concerning Christine."

Madam Giry shook her head. "She is as well as anyone else, Monsieur…the only thing that will put her mind at ease is Christine's recovery."

* * *

Elisabeth, despite her melancholy disposition, couldn't help but smile as the crisp November air took her breath away. "My, it has gotten cold…and look at those clouds! We'll have snow tonight for sure."

Raoul led them to a small café. Elisabeth and Raoul were familiar with the place; every week they met for breakfast here. They sat at their favorite table and ordered their food.

"So…where do you live, Raoul? I don't think I have ever asked."

"I live in a manor right outside the Paris borders. It is my family home…but currently the only de Chagny living there is myself. My brother, Phillipe, was been away on family business for months now."

"What about your parents?" Elisabeth realized that they had never broached the subject of his family before. Raoul sighed.

"My father died when I was but a lad…Phillipe is a good many years my elder and he basically raised me. My mother…let's just say that the death of my father was something she couldn't accept. She resides at our sea side home in Brest…she rarely corresponds with Phillipe and I…I think she is a touch mad, to be frank." Raoul fidgeted in his seat a bit. "I have never told anyone that…my brother is a Comte…he runs the family fortunes and business investments…I have no other siblings, although I am bonded by many through de Chagny blood. My brother does not understand my need to invest in the Opera Populaire at all…I have been entranced by that place since I first saw _Faust_ on its stages years ago!"

"I feel as if I know so little about you, Raoul, even though we've known each other for months now…tell me about your childhood."

Raoul leaned forward in his chair a bit, not taking his eyes off of Elisabeth's. "Well…I was brought up by nannies and tutors for the first part of my life…I had speech coaches, language instructors, history teachers…I had fencing practice and hunting lessons; all the manly things…(Elisabeth laughed) Two years after my father died my brother started taking me to Le Havre; Phillipe often had business there, and I got to enjoy the warm ocean air and a sandy new playground…it was there that I first met Christine."

They were interrupted as dinner was served to them. Raoul and Elisabeth ate in silence for a few moments. Raoul was afraid that his touch on the subject of Christine had hurt Elisabeth.

"Raoul, this was a good idea. I feel so much better now…well, as good as I can feel, considering. Raoul…if you don't mind, I would like you to continue your story…when did you met Christine?"

Raoul breathed in relief. "I was twelve years old…Phillipe had joined me on the beach for the first time in ages; he was talking to an older gentleman as I walked the sandy beach. I saw a young girl standing at the water's edge, searching for sea shells. She was possible the prettiest child I had ever seen…even at that young age, her hair was a wave of dark curls…but it was tied back with a pretty red scarf. A gust of wind blew past me, and the scarf unknotted itself and flew toward the open water. The young girl let out a bewildered cry, and before I could think, I had plunged into the icy water after that scarf. I returned the wet thing to the child…and she looked at me and said, 'Thank you, kind Sir. Twas my mother's scarf, and she has long left me to live in Heaven with the Angels.' I was so taken with her that I didn't mind that Phillipe caned me within an inch of my life. He was furious that I had dove into the sea (I could barely swim, to be honest)…I could have been killed. But all I cared about was seeing the girl again…her father was a friend of my brother's; he was a famous violinist. He had come to the sea to die…and little Christine seemed to know that. We talked all the time; she told me about the stories her father would tell her about a young girl named Little Lotte who had an Angel of Music. She had such a vivid imagination that I actually believed…but then her father died, and she left. I never knew where she went, and I believed I would never see her again. Until a faithful day nearly ten years later…I had just become the Opera Populaire's new patron, and I was attending my first gala. She performed as Elissa…and all my memories of her returned to me."

Elisabeth finished her meal. She glanced at him. "You were in love with her."

"I thought I was…she was the sister I never had, and such strange things were happening at the Opera House at the time…I just wanted to protect her."

"What kind of strange things?"

Raoul glanced up, then changed the subject. "My, it has gotten cold in here, hasn't it?"

Elisabeth noted the abrupt change in conversation, but nodded her head in agreement. She would have to broach the subject later.

Raoul glanced at the large window beside them and peered outside into the afternoon sun. "It's snowing again…"

Elisabeth looked up. "Is it bad?"

"Not yet…but it might not be a bad idea to head back now. Let's get Erik's and Meg's food and leave before the storm gets worse."

* * *

A roaring noise awakened Erik from his deep sleep. He opened his eyes cautiously, forgetting for a moment where he was. What was that sound? Erik listened hard with his excellent hearing, and realized that the sound was coming from outside the Opera Populaire…it was the wind. _It must be a blizzard_, Erik thought. He stretched his sore muscles and pulled his battered watch out of his pocket. It read three o'clock a.m. Erik blinked in surprise. He glanced at Christine, realization flooding through him. Erik had slept the whole time…most of the night…he reached out and took her small wrist between his hands and blew out a sigh of relief. She had a pulse…and a strong one at that. This had to be a good sign…Erik stood and moved toward his daughters. It was plain that someone had been in to care for them…they were dressed in swaddling clothes, and they smelled of baby powder. _Marie must have come in while I was asleep…curse her for not waking me_…sure enough, on the desk was a fresh plate of food. Erik inspected it. There was a note.

_**Don't be mad that I let you sleep…you won't get much of it with twin infants around…I shall return at four o'clock, my friend.**_

Erik sighed. He wasn't hungry…Erik made his way back to Christine.

"My Angel…it is early in the morning…it's snowing outside. We might get snowed in the way the storm is going." Erik sighed. "I wish you could hear my words, Christine. I wish you would wake…" Erik stroked Christine's wild brown mane. The silkiness of the curls on his fingers counteracted the cold feeling of her small hand within his own.

"You can't leave me…there is still so much that we haven't shared. There is so much that I haven't told you…I thought I had all the time in the world. Time is so precious…I promise never to waste it again. If only you would wake…"

Erik heard stirring from the bassinet. He went to the side of the cradle and noticed one his daughters staring at him with mix-matched eyes. Erik smiled.

"You're awake, aren't you, little one? Let's get you out of this thing before you wake your sister…" Erik gently picked up his daughter. He carried her over to Christine. The infant gurgled and smiled for her daddy. Her little hands were grasping upwards, trying to reach something to grab. Erik extended his finger to his daughter, and she latched right on. Erik loved the feel of his small daughter in his arms…he turned his attention to Christine.

"Do you remember the night of _Don Juan_? It seems a silly question, I know…the performance was a scheme of my own devious and foolish mind; my life's work had become a plot to ensnare you and keep you with me forever. I was so sure that I would win your heart that night…I was so sure that you would fall in love with me. I followed my plan to the letter; everything went perfectly…until you started to sing to me, Christine…I was undone the moment I heard your voice. It was full of fire and passion, so much so that I couldn't believe that it was a ploy…I realized that no matter what I might do, whatever power I might possess…you would always be my weakness. But in a sense, it is not a weakness…I feel powerful with you in my arms; the feel of passion and love is something that I cannot control. I…have never fully understood your actions that night…I do not know why you would sing to me in such a manner, then reveal me to be the demon I am…but it doesn't matter, Christine. The lesson I learned that night is the same that follows me to this day: there is no light in my darkness without you."

Erik softly soothed his daughter in his arms, playing with her tiny toes. He leaned down and kissed Christine softly on her forehead.

**Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime…lead me, save me from my solitude…say you'll want me with you here, beside you…anywhere you go let me go to…Christine, that's all I ask of-**

Erik couldn't finish it. He hadn't been able to finish it the night of _Don Juan_, and he couldn't finish now. Grief closed his throat, and he shut his eyes against the pain. He let the tears fall freely, only aware of the sleeping infant in his arms. He felt as if part of his soul was draining from his body…when he felt a slight grasp on his wrist. Erik's eyes flew opened. Christine was gazing at him, her brown eyes absent of pain. She smiled.

"**You**…" she finished his song quietly, still staring at her husband. Erik was paralyzed for a moment.

"Christine?"

Christine closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them for the second time, Erik could see the awareness in them. "Angel…thank God for you."

Erik felt the joy leap through his body, giving him new found energy. She spoke with no weakness, and her smile was like pure light into the darkness that had settled over Erik."Christine! You have added years to my life, my dear…and that is not necessarily a good thing." He leaned down and kissed her deeply, careful of the baby in his arms. "Tell me how you feel, Angel…leave nothing out. Is there pain? Are you hungry?"

Christine thought for a moment. "I have no pain, save one: I have not yet held my daughters…Erik? Will you…" Erik smiled and passed the young infant to her mother. He fetched his other daughter, and together they held their children for the first time. Christine felt the tears roll down her face. She looked at Erik.

"Names?"

Erik shook his head. "Not yet, love…I was waiting on you."

Christine thought for a moment, then look at the daughter Erik held in his arms. She had tufts of blonde hair the same shade as Christine's mother: a deep honey color. Christine sighed. "Meaningful names, Erik…I want meaningful names for my daughters."

"Aurora." Erik said the name instantly, although he wasn't quite sure where it came from. _Of course_, he thought, _light and beauty fit my daughter perfectly_.

Christine looked at Erik, then back at the tiny infant. Christine nodded. "Aurora Marie."

Erik smiled. "Marie would be happy about that, I imagine. Now, what about her sister?" The infant in Christine's arms was of a darker coloring, more like her father. Erik knew just the name.

"Celena."

"Perfect…now, what about a middle name?"

Erik paused. "Elisabeth's middle name is Caitlyn, Christine…I would like that to be her middle name."

Christine smiled as Erik passed Aurora to her. She held them both easily in her arms. "Aurora Marie and Celena Caitlyn…beautiful names for our beautiful daughters." Erik looked at Christine holding their children. He didn't think that there was a more beautiful sight in all the world. Christine lifted her head, the tears free falling from her face.

"Thank you, Erik…my Angel…for my daughters. Thank you so much."

Erik carefully crawled into the bed with his wife. She fit snuggly into his arms, and he kissed the top of her head. "Thank you for returning to me…I cannot live without you, my love."

Erik hugged her closer, feeling her cold body slowly warm against his own. Christine rested her head on her husband's strong arm, still cradling the young infants against her breasts. Erik wished they could stay like this forever…but one of the infants began to whimper. Christine glanced down.

"I do believe that they're hungry, Erik…and I have to confess that I am not quite sure how to do it. Would you mind terribly leaving to fetch Marie? Please?"

Erik reluctantly left her warm embrace. "I can deny you nothing, Christine. I shall return soon…do not leave the bed, love." Erik moved the bassinet closer to Christine's bed, so she could see them from her spot in the bed. He picked up the babies and put them safely in their crib. Erik turned to face Christine. He grasped her hand.

"I won't be long…"

Christine rose up and kissed him hard on the lips. Erik felt her deepen the kiss, and in response Erik found himself moving forward to hold her against him. "Kiss me like that again and I won't be able to leave…"

Christine laughed. "The sooner you leave, the sooner you can return…and if you returned with food, you may get more than a kiss." She batted her eyes at him mischievously, and Erik felt the blood rise within him. She was really all right…everything was going to be fine. He turned and walked to the door, turning back for one last look at his Angel before he left.

* * *

"So I said 'Christine, why are you crawling on the floor?' and she said, 'Papa said that you must have lost your marbles jumping into the sea after my scarf, so I was trying to find them for you!'" Raoul couldn't finish; his face turned red, and he laughed deeply. Meg and Elisabeth burst into laughter themselves. Elisabeth grabbed her side.

"Ah-I have a stitch!"

Meg laughed harder. "Good…maybe Raoul and I will win at cards now that you're occupied…"

Raoul, Elisabeth, and Meg were gathered in Elisabeth's room. They were positioned in various places on the floor, and a deck of cards lie in the middle of the semi-circle they found themselves in. They had played rummy all night…all three could not find the will to sleep. Instead, they had shared in laughter and merriment…Meg and Raoul told wonderfully funny stories of Christine in her childhood. Meg waved her hands as she took the cards to shuffle them.

"I've got the best story…ever wonder, Raoul, why Carlotta hated Christine so much? It's not just because she replaced her as prima donna…"

Elisabeth lifted her head in confusion. "Who is Carlotta?"

Raoul barked out a bitter laugh. "Picture a Spanish diva with the personality of a paper bag…but an attitude that would grate the dead. Her voice…it had a range…but it would rupture your eardrums! Her voice sounded like a stuck pig! SQUEE!"

Meg turned bright red, then choked out a laugh. Raoul glanced at her in mock concern, and patted her back. "Breathe, Meg…" Meg steadied herself, then glanced at Elisabeth in seriousness.

"She was horrible, Elisabeth…she ordered everyone around; and the managers always catered to her…Christine had been at the Opera Populaire for four years when Carlotta became the leading soprano. She was on the stage one day and the diva approached her with her giant white poodle dog. Carlotta threw the dog onto Christine, and said, 'You, there! Ballet Rat! Taka my doggie for a walkie right now! And be careful of my precious poochy…' Christine was so taken aback that she just did it; when she got outside the dog tugged the lease out of her hands and dove into a giant mud puddle!"

Elisabeth laughed. Meg shushed her with a look. "But that's not the best part…Christine managed to get the dog back into the Opera Populaire, and she was going to take it and bathe him before she gave him back to Carlotta…but Carlotta was screeching on stage, and the dog heard her voice. He ran to her and jumped into her arms…she screamed for ages at the mud all over her clothes!"

Raoul laughed so hard that he fell backwards onto the floor. "Poor Christine…I can imagine Carlotta made her life Hell after that."

Meg nodded. "You have no idea…I'm sick of cards."

"Yeah, me too…is there anything else we can play?" Elisabeth asked, yawning widely.

Meg brightened. "I have a chess set! It's in Mother's room…I'll be right back." Elisabeth looked at Raoul, who had regained his dignity from his previous laughing fit. Elisabeth laughed.

"Your hair…"

Raoul felt his hair. It was all over the place…and that was unacceptable. He tried to smooth it, but just managed to make it worse. Elisabeth laughed harder.

"Quit laughing at me!" Raoul tried in vain to fix his appearance without a mirror.

"I can't help it…you're such a fop!"

Raoul froze. "Take that back."

Elisabeth smiled smugly. "No."

"You will."

"I will not."

"All right, you asked for it!" Raoul tackled her, tickling her unmercifully. Elisabeth tried to slap his hands away, but soon found that she was out of breath from laughing.

"Stop Raoul! Oh, please! I'll do anything!"

"Say 'Raoul is the master of the Opera Populaire'"

"I will not- all right! Raoul is the master…fop!"

Raoul stopped in mock surprise. His face was inches from Elisabeth's. "Why, I never…I can't believe you would say such a thing…TWICE!" He pressed a hand over his heart. "I'm hurt…deep down." Elisabeth smiled at him.

"I only speak the truth…"

They stared at each other for a moment. They were so close…Raoul felt like he should move away, but he couldn't take his eyes off of Elisabeth's blue green orbs…those eyes had haunted his dreams; they had etched themselves into his heart. He leaned his head forward, just a bit…it was like magnetism, he couldn't break off…and suddenly, Raoul felt the soft press of her lips against his…she tasted of vanilla. Raoul inclined his head, deepening the sweet kiss, but not wishing to ravage her mouth. This…was electric…it was fire…this was nothing like kissing anyone else…and Raoul prayed that Elisabeth felt the same. Quite suddenly, there was a cough and the sound of someone clearing their throat. Raoul sprang away from Elisabeth, and turned to stare in shame at Madam Giry.

"Well…I do hope that I'm not interrupting. I just came to check on everyone…and I have to say that I'm glad I did. Where is my daughter?"

Elisabeth looked at her feet, the shame burning on her face. "She went to your bedroom, Madam." Madam Giry nodded.

"Then I suggest you go to my bedroom, Elisabeth. Stay with Meg." Elisabeth didn't need telling twice. She hurried from the room. Madam Giry came toward Raoul and slapped him across the face.

"How dare you! Unsupervised…I cannot believe that you would risk her honor in such a way. This is a horrible time for her and her family! This is not the time for you to play Casanova! You have betrayed my trust…and Erik's! What would he say if he had been the one to discover you? Or better yet, what would he do!"

"Yes…what would I do, Marie?" Madam Giry whirled around to discover Erik leaning against the door, arms crossed over his chest. His face still held a haggard look, but there was happiness beaming from his bright blue green eyes. Madam Giry gasped.

"Erik! What are you doing here…did Christine wake?" Erik grinned and nodded slightly. Madam Giry let out a relieved cry. "Oh, thank God! Is she all right?"

"Yes…she's fine, Marie. Christine is asking for you…go on, I'll join you shortly." Madam Giry gave him an apprehensive look, then glanced at Raoul. She sighed, and left the room. Erik looked at Raoul for the first time.

"Care to explain what she was yelling at you about? She seemed to be using me as a threat…I couldn't help but overhear…but unfortunately I only seemed to catch the last bit." Raoul saw a bit of the happiness fade from his eyes to be replaced with a hard, angry stare.

Raoul shook his head. "Not really…it's shouldn't be a concern now. This is not the time for a talk. Christine should be your first concern." Erik stared at him a moment longer, then nodded.

"I agree. But do not think that you have avoided this." The heat in his stare was intense, but then, to Raoul's surprise, it lessened. "Thank you…for helping me see what was important in my life. It is strange that you would be the one to remind me of my responsibilities…but it changes nothing!" Erik's gaze harden. "We will talk about my sister, Vicomte…and I will talk to her as well. You will not play mind games with her. Now, if you will excuse me, I have other, more important things to do than talk to you." He left, leaving Raoul alone. All he could do was fall to his knees in relief, thankful that Erik had not heard all of Madam Giry's ravings…Raoul had been Punjabbed once before, and he did not want a repeat of the event.

* * *

Erik opened the door of his wife's room, his hands full of Christine's favorite foods. He stopped cold halfway into the room. Madam Giry stood over his wife as she nursed Aurora for the first time. Madam Giry was coaching her slightly.

"That's it, Christine…the important thing with twins is that you have to give them equal time…all right, Aurora Marie seems to be done…and what a wonderful name she has been given!" Madam Giry glanced up at Erik. "You're just in time, my dear! Aurora needs to be burped…and I am so very tired. I shall retire now. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

Christine inclined her head at Madam Giry. "Thanks, Marie."

"I love you, Christine…and I'm so very glad and relieved that you pulled through this. You are a strong young woman, my dear…I shall see you in the morning."

Erik took Aurora from Madam Giry as she left the room. Erik held his daughter close to him, rocking her gently. He glanced at Christine, who now had her other breast exposed for Celena. Erik cradled Aurora, feeling her sigh and cough slightly. He held her close, and she fell asleep in his arms. Erik carefully placed her into her crib.

"I think she's done too, love," Christine said, laughing a bit at her little daughter.

Erik took Celena, who yawned at him. Erik grinned. "My little one is tired…" After the twins were taken care of and put to sleep, Erik brought Christine the plate of food he fixed.

"Thank you…Erik, you look horrible! You need to get some sleep, love." Erik grinned at her sarcastically.

"And I don't even have my mask off." Christine glared at him.

"The mask bothers me more…love, why don't you take it off? It's just us…"

Erik shook his head. "I can deny you nothing…I believe I've said that before." Erik leaned against the bed as Christine moved over to make room. Erik sighed as he leaned on the soft mattress and pillows…and as the presence of his wife filled him. Christine reached up and pulled his mask off; she kissed his marred flesh before settling against him, pulling him close to her. Erik pulled away slightly, afraid of hurting her sore body.

"It doesn't hurt you, Christine?"

Christine laughed. "You could never hurt me…I feel as if I was deprived of you for so long…I'm not letting go."

Erik wrapped his long, strong arms around his wife, hugging her fiercely. "I think your biggest problem will be losing me as your shadow…I came too close today of losing you, Christine." Christine had a far away look in her eyes.

"I had the strangest dreams…I dreamed I met my father right outside of Heaven. I wanted to see you, and I found you…you were screaming for me, begging for my life...I grabbed your shoulder, but I couldn't hear you anymore." Erik felt his insides grow cold. It _had_ been her in the hallway…Christine continued. "My father showed me an alternate life; I had married Raoul…and you were dead. I returned here, to find you, and I found your ghost…it said such mean, spiteful things…but I made a choice. I don't remember much after that…I remember you singing to me. Always singing songs in my head…"

"I'm glad you heard me…" Erik broke off his thought as a deep yawn overtook him. He closed his eyes.

"Erik?"

Erik opened his eyes again. "Yes, Christine?"

"Will you sing to me?"

Erik sighed. "What do you what me to sing?"

Christine snuggled deeply into her husband's chest, tickling him gently as she breathed against him. "What do you think?"

**Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation…**

And so, the music of the night lulled all to sleep.

* * *

**To: ObsessedwiththePhantom:** New Reviewer! YEA! Thank you for your reviews! I am so glad that you liked 'Christine'…I read over it now and see how much I have grown as a writer. I am so glad that you were touched at some parts in 'Demons of the Past'; I try to write from the heart. Thank you for your kind words and thoughts, and I hope that you enjoy the next chapters. The story still has a ways to go…I would tell you what's in store, but it would ruin the surprise…I will say this, though: Christine's alternate life had a purpose.

**To: XCiel:** You get the new reviewer dance too! YEA! Thank you for your review. I smiled as I read it…it made my day. I'm glad that you're enjoying everything, and I will try to keep the updates regular.

**To: Juliana:** I just wanted to say to you how much I appreciate your reviews. I'm glad that you liked Christine's alternate life; it had abig purpose, and I have no doubt that you will figure it out…Thank you so much for your reviews. I hope you continue to like!

And to the rest of my wonderful, stupendous, magnificent, (and lots of other great adjectives) **REVIEWERS:** You guys are all awesome! I wanted to let you all know that if you have questions or concerns, I would be happy to answer them. I love writing, and I have to say that the reviews give me a big confidence boost. Your kindness is unfathomable. THANK YA'LL!


	19. Ghost of the Past

**Demons of the Past**

**Ch. 19 Ghost of the Past**

**Author's note:** I feel the end of my story drawing near…I have one more chapter 'til the end. I just think that twenty is a good round number to stop on (I'm taking a leaf after one of my fave authors **Kat097**; if you haven't read her stories, they're pretty awesome). I hope to make the last chapter long enough to where I won't need and epilogue…but if you guys want one, then I will do it…just let me know. Right now, I am happy about this story, and I thank everyone who's read it. YEA!

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Phantom of the Opera. I also didn't invent cheese or suntan lotion…just random thoughts…_

And now, on with the story…

* * *

At two o'clock in the morning, most people in Paris were asleep. Most, if lucky, were tucked into a warm bed with warm blankets to battle the cold of the December night…and some, who were even luckier, might have something better than a blanket to keep them warm. Lovers were long asleep, mothers and fathers had long tucked their children into bed, even the drunks in the pubs were feeling the effects of sleep beckoning to them. But in a home not far from the Opera Populaire, the norm was broken. 

Erik lay in a dead sleep, his arms wrapped tightly and protectively around his young wife. The cold had seeped into their downstairs bedroom, regardless of the smoldering fire in the fireplace. Erik was oblivious to the world…until a cry shattered his dream world, and he awoke with a jerk. Erik strained his excellent hearing and discovered the cries coming from upstairs…but they were not the cries of his infant daughters…it was something else. Erik carefully unattached himself from his wife, not wanting her to wake. He grabbed his mask from the bedside table, and grabbed a robe to cover his bare chest. Erik's barefoot feet padded the floor silently as he walked up the stairs to the source of the sound. The cries grew in intensity, until finally they were vocalized.

"Daddy! Come quick! Please!"

Erik forgot all care as he bounded the rest of the way up the stairs. He raced down the hall into Brian's room. Erik skidded to a halt, his eyes sweeping the room, trying to find the source of Brian's discomfort…he found Brian sitting straight up in bed, hugging his knees as he rocked back and forth, crying. Erik came forward to him and wrapped his arms around his brother.

"What's wrong, little one? What has happened? Shhh, I'm here now, my boy…tell me what's wrong."

"Ghosts…there are ghosts everywhere."

Erik pulled him away gently and wiped his tears away. "Ghosts?"

"Yeah…ghosts."

Erik looked around the room. "I don't see any ghosts."

Brian shook his head. "It's 'cause there invisible…they live in the shadows…like the ghost at the Opera House."

"Ghost? In the Opera House?"

"Elisabeth said that there is a ghost that haunts the Opera House…a ghost with no face…and now I see him! He's come to get me!" Brian said in a small voice, his body shaking in fear.

Erik closed his eyes briefly, feeling the familiar pain return to his chest. _So she knows about the Opera Ghost; it was only a matter of time…I will have to talk to her…_ "Elisabeth was just telling you a story, little bee…I shall speak to her about saying such things to you. I can assure you, Brian, that there are no ghosts…there make-believe, like fairies and dragons. They can't hurt you, little one…there not real. Now, why don't you lie back down and go to sleep?"

Brian shook his head. "The ghosts will come back as soon as you leave…"

Erik sighed. "Well…how can I frighten away the ghosts, Brian? What can I do?"

"You can't do anything…they have to leave on there own." Erik was beginning to get frustrated when he heard one of the twins from the nursery in the next room over.

"Why don't you come with me, then? You can help me with the babies."

Brian's face brightened substantially, and together they walked into the nursery. Brian seemed to be glad to leave his room…and Erik just wanted to crawl back into his own bed and sleep. Erik motioned for Brian to have a seat in the large window seat. Brian scrambled up into the comfy seat and watched Erik pick up Aurora. She was bawling her eyes out. Miraculously, her sister hadn't even stirred. Erik glanced at Celena in jealously, wishing he could drown out nighttime noises as well as her…

"Shhhh, little angel," Erik said, trying to comfort the screaming child. She quieted a bit as she recognized her father's voice. She looked at her, her bright eyes wet with tears. Erik held her close, still talking in a soothing voice. Brian watched with wide eyes.

"Why is she crying? Is she hurt? She sure does cry a lot…"

Erik chuckled. "Babies cry to let everyone know they need something…they can't talk yet, like you and I." Erik turned toward the door as he heard footsteps approaching. Christine appeared in the doorway, a sleepy expression still on her face.

"You weren't fast enough, love…I still heard her." Erik grimaced.

"I tried…it's good that you're here anyway, Christine…I think Aurora is hungry." Christine nodded, and sat in the rocking chair as Erik handed her Aurora. Christine glanced at Brian, who was beginning to nod off again. Erik took the hint, and picked Brian up gently and carried him from the room. Christine wanted privacy while she breast-fed…and that was perfectly understandable. Erik slowly placed Brian back into his bed. His eyes had already closed in sleep. Erik smoothed his hair fondly before heading back toward the nursery. Christine smiled as he returned.

"Erik, you're dead on your feet…why don't you go on back to bed? I'll join you in a moment."

Erik sighed and shook his head. "Elisabeth told Brian that there was a ghost living in the Opera House…a ghost with no face. Now Brian sees the ghost in his nightmares…and I'm stuck with wondering how much Elisabeth knows about the Opera Ghost."

"I wouldn't worry too much, Erik…this time, the rumor is that the Opera Ghost really is a ghost…the ghost of the Phantom of the Opera. Everyone thought that you had died when the mob brought back that dead body, love…and now the ballet brats have begun to spread rumors that the ghost of the Opera Ghost (it's kind of funny, if you think about it in a cosmic way) has come back to take revenge on those who killed him."

Erik looked at Christine in disbelief. "How do you know all of this?"

Christine laughed. "Meg, of course…"

"So they think that the Phantom of the Opera is dead, and that his ghost now haunts the Opera House with no face, frightening various people along the way…interesting. No whispers of _Don Juan_…no whispers about you?"

Christine thought for a moment. "Well…they say that after I was abducted from the stage during _Don Juan_, (she raised her eyebrow at Erik, who gave her a roughish grin) I fell in love with the Phantom…but that I still chose to leave with Raoul. Once I realized my mistake, I went mad…I went away to some far away place for months trying to get over my obsession…then I came back with you. You're mysterious…and handsome…and so they just think that I have gotten over my obsession with the Phantom."

"You went mad? Well, it's nice for someone else to be insane for a change…but why wouldn't they put two and two together? I wear a mask…the Phantom wore a mask…I'm in love with you…the Phantom was in love with you…Damn, this is confusing! It makes no sense…"

Christine smiled in sympathy. "It is bewildering, love…but the reason they don't figure it out is because they think your whole face is deformed…your right side faced the audience in the performance of _Don Juan_ ("Don't remind me," Erik growled as he interrupted her. Christine just sighed exasperatedly and moved on.) and they didn't realize that only part of your face was deformed…and since you only wear a half mask, you couldn't possibly be the Phantom of the Opera…rather ingenious, how the ballet brat's mind works, isn't it?"

Erik laughed, deeply and genuine. He sobered quickly. "But Elisabeth is smarter than that…if she has heard these rumors, especially yours and Raoul's roles in the affair…it is only a matter of time before she figures it out. I have feared this…I will have to tell her the truth, for no other reason but for her own protection! I will not have the truth come from distorted lips who know nothing of the reality of the strange affair…"

"Angel, I understand your concern…and I agree that you must talk to Elisabeth. She loves you, Angel…give her a chance." Christine looked at her sleeping daughter at her breast. "Well, it looks as if we have bored our dear daughter to sleep…let's join her, shall we?"

Erik smirked. "But I do so love this two a.m. talks we have…"

Christine replaced Aurora back in her crib. "Then let's talk in our sleep, love…"

Christine wrapped her arms around her husband gently. Together, they walked down the stairs and into their room. Erik was almost asleep when he heard the tiny squeak of their bedroom door being opened. He sat up in alarm, his body moving automatically to cover Christine protectively.

"Daddy?"

Erik let out a small sigh of relief. "Yes, Brian?"

There was a shuffle of feet on the ground. "I can't sleep in my room…"

Erik could definitely see where this was headed. "So," he prompted gently, "what do you want to do about that?"

Christine lifted herself up from the bed and beckoned for Brian. He grinned happily as he jumped in the bed, kicking Erik in the stomach as he went. Erik's breath escaped him with a slight gasp, but he recovered quickly. Christine wrapped her arms around Brian, cradling him softly against her. Erik felt a little awkward; Brian had never slept with them before…what was he supposed to do with a child in the bed? Christine answered his question for him. She grabbed his arms and wrapped them around her own, encompassing both her body and Brian's. Erik felt the warmth flood him as Christine's small frame pressed against his own, and as sleep descended, he couldn't help but feel that this was the perfect way to fall asleep.

* * *

"Advertising! That's the ticket…that's how we get more people to come to this ball!" 

Stefan was speaking excitedly to Erik and Raoul in his office. Stefan was pacing in front of his desk, smiling with obvious pleasure at the thought of such a brilliant idea. Raoul frowned.

"But why would we need to advertise _Bal Masque_? It was a great success last year…save for a rather overly dramatic interruption." Raoul glanced at Erik, who had not missed the small jab. He glared at him with glittering eyes.

"It was just a bit of excitement…surely that won't keep people from attending the masquerade ball," Erik said to Stefan, ignoring Raoul pointedly. Stefan shook his head.

"I don't know, Erik…it's just that this season is going so well, and I want the ball to be a success too. If it weren't a tradition for the Opera Populaire, I have a right mind to cancel the ball all together…not tempt fate, so to speak. But too many people would be disappointed…if all else, the employees of the Opera House will have a grand time…and they will have deserved it. Still, I think that if we did a few advertisements: a few posters around Paris, a few ads in the paper…more people would come, and more money would be made!"

Raoul laughed. "Ah, a man after my own heart…what do you have in mind for the advertisements?"

Stefan thought for a moment. "Well, we could have several of our beautiful ladies and handsome gentlemen dress up in masquerade finery…I would love it if you would consent to Elisabeth being in the ads, Erik…she has such a rare beauty."

"I have no problems, as long as Elisabeth does not object." _After all_, Erik thought, _she will be wearing a mask. No harm can come from this if no one recognizes her…_

"Excellent! I shall make the arrangements…oh, I just have a wonderful feeling about this!"

_Funny,_ Erik thought, as Stefan escorted them out of the office, _I do not…_

_

* * *

_

"They say his skin is like the yellow of old, faded parchment…his nose never formed; there is a giant black hole of tissue and bones instead. His voice is hypnotic…once you have heard his voice, you are forever entrapped by him…haunted forever by the beauty of his song inside the horrendous shell of a man."

Elisabeth laughed, breaking the spell the young ballerina called Mina was beginning to weave on the other girls. "How can he have such a wonderful voice, Mina, if he doesn't have a nose?"

Mina sputtered a minute. "That's not important! He's a ghost…they have powers that we do not. He is like a siren…a deadly voice that will kill you if you come too close."

Elisabeth looked at the scared looks on the other chorus and ballet girl's faces. "Oh, come on, you don't actually believe this, do you?"

One looked at Elisabeth with scorn. "Of course we do! Everyone knows the Phantom of the Opera was real…he lived underneath the Opera House for years before he was finally killed…and now, his ghost will haunt this place forever!"

Mina pointed a finger at Elisabeth. "Your sister-in-law is Christine Daae! Go ask her yourself the part she played in the Phantom of the Opera…she was his lover, after all."

Elisabeth rose to her feet, a furious look on her face. "You take that back this instant, Mina…you go too far with your boldness. Christine is an honorable woman…how dare you soil her name for the sake of your childish ghost stories!"

Mina rose to her feet as well, her face turning bright red. "Are you calling me a liar, Elisabeth? Everyone knows that Christine Daae had the Phantom twirled around her little finger, as any common whore would do…and then she left him, broke him, destroyed him. She is the reason he still haunts this place!"

Elisabeth spoke, her voice low and deadly. "This is your finally warning, Mina…take back your words yourself, or I will force them back!" Elisabeth roared the last line, and Mina took a step back from her.

"I will not!"

Elisabeth launched herself at the girl, trying to hurt her as much as she could. Mina screamed and attacked as well, biting at Elisabeth and pounding her fists against Elisabeth's side. Elisabeth saw only red…a blood red that covered her entire existence…until she was forcibly dragged away from Mina. She was pushed against the wall, and Erik's angry face was in hers.

"Why! Why, Elisabeth!"

Raoul was tending to Mina, who was bleeding from her nose. Stefan was speechless.

"What has happened here?"

Mina glanced at Elisabeth cruelly. "Elisabeth can't handle the truth, is all, Manager…she gets mad when she hears things she doesn't want to accept!" Elisabeth surged forward, trying to move away from Erik's strong grasp, but he withheld her, and grabbed her hand, pulling her away from Mina's hateful words. He pushed her into an empty dressing room.

"What the Hell was that about! Why were you fighting with that girl!"

Erik stood before her, his arms crossed over his chest and his face hard. Elisabeth stared into his cold blue green eyes, finding none of the familiar warmth there. She sighed.

"She insulted Christine, Erik…I was…I couldn't-" Elisabeth's words trailed off as she looked at the floor. "I'm sorry, Erik." She glanced up as Erik touched her arm.

"What did the girl say, Elisabeth?" Erik murmured, his tone light to hide the hidden meaning behind his words. Elisabeth could see them, though…

"She called Christine 'the Phantom's lover'…she said that she was whore…"

Erik's body began to shake with rage. "What were you talking about that would lead to such a subject? Tell me…" Erik could barely control his voice. Elisabeth recounted the whole conversation. Erik stood in silence, his eyes never leaving Elisabeth's face.

"This is my fault, Elisabeth…I have not been completely honest with you…but I cannot tell you here." Erik glanced around. His eyes rested on the large mirror in the corner. "You must trust me…do you?"

Elisabeth nodded with no hesitation. Erik led her to the mirror and opened the secret passage way behind it. Elisabeth made no sound as they descended into the lower levels of the Opera House. After some time, Erik stopped. He turned to Elisabeth.

"What I have to say is not going to be easy for me…and I must first have your word of honor that you will not reveal this secret to anyone. I am trusting you with my life, Elisabeth…my family's life."

"I swear, Erik…what is going on? I don't understand…"

Erik sat against the cold floor of the basement levels, his back against the wall. He looked up at Elisabeth.

"I told you that I met Christine at the Opera House long ago…and I know she has told you of me being her voice teacher. It was more than that, Elisabeth…I had lived in the undercombs of the Opera House for several years before I had ever saw Christine…I was hidden away, in solitude and seclusion. I came to Christine as her Angel of Music; a promise her dying father had made for her. She believed me, and I deceived her for so very long…it wasn't until I realized that I was in love with her that I knew I had to reveal the truth…that I wasn't her Angel of Music…I was the Phantom of the Opera."

Elisabeth gasped, the sound echoing through the passage. Erik couldn't look at her. "I…loved her so much…but slowly, surely, I was becoming mad…I was going insane. I had only ever had my music; my music was my only comfort in my dark world. I had no other contact with anyone…and now I wanted Christine, wanted her more than anything in my life! I had been denied much, and I would not be denied again! I put her through such torments…I put myself through torments…unimaginable. In the end…at the end of all things I realized what I had done to her…all the pain I had caused. I, so familiar with pain, couldn't bear the thought of inflicting horrible retribution upon the one person I loved! I let her go…I released her from my cruel ways…from my darkness…but she returned to me. Christine…so beautiful, so full of warm light…returned to this creature, this monster."

Erik finally glanced at Elisabeth and saw the tears running down her face. "The Phantom of the Opera is no more…now only Erik remains. She changed me…"

Elisabeth spoke for the first time. "What of the deaths? The chandelier crash? Christine being kidnapped…are all these things true?"

Erik held her gaze, his blue green eyes full of intensity. He nodded once.

Elisabeth choked on a cry. "I can't believe this…you saved me from a horrible life…you have shown me nothing but love and kindness…how can I believe that you were once the monster that everyone feared!" She rounded on him furiously. "Is the monster hiding behind the mask? Is that why you have never let me gaze upon your naked face? What is there to hide!" Erik stared at her, his face not changing from the passive stone wall he had built up. Inside, he was dying of guilt and pain…Elisabeth charged at him, swinging her hands at his face. "I trusted you! I trusted you with my life! I don't know you! I don't know who you are anymore!" Erik tried in vain to avoid the blows; no pain came…only the mental anguish of knowing the depths of his attempt at trying to maintain the façade of a normal life…finally, one of Elisabeth's blows struck home, knocking the mask from his face. Erik closed his eyes tightly, not bothering to raise his hands to cover his deformity. Elisabeth stopped and sucked in a breath. She staggered backwards, sitting hard on the floor. Erik remained where he was, his eyes closed still. There was only silence between them now. Erik stood from his place on the floor, brushing himself off. He turned his back to Elisabeth.

"Now you see…you see as everyone else does. As our dear _mother_ saw…as the gypsies saw…I am a monster, exactly as you said. All I have ever wanted was to be normal! Live a normal life, have a family…I thought that I could have it. It had been denied me for so very long…but when Christine returned to me, I thought I had a second chance…but it can never be so. I will always have to relive my past…I can never undo the things I have done, no matter how much regret I have." Erik closed his eyes against the tears that fell. "I am sorry, Elisabeth…so very, very sorry." Erik finally lowered his head in shame, feeling the hot tears caress his cheeks, marred and perfect alike. Erik felt the touch of a kiss on his distorted flesh, and his eyes flew open in surprise. Elisabeth stood before him, standing on her tiptoes to reach her brother. He let her explore his face, feeling her touch graze over the bumps and holes of his deformed flesh. She turned his face so that their twin eyes met in a burning moment.

"You are my brother…my blood, my protector…and I love you, no matter what, I swear this to you. It's just a little shocking…you have to understand. What you look like has never mattered to me…and it never will." She hugged him fiercely and protectively, and Erik curled his arms around her as well. He kissed the top of her straight black hair.

"Thank you, Elisabeth…I can't tell you how much you and Brian mean to me…I don't want to lose you."

Elisabeth looked at him, a large grin on her face. "Lose us? You'll have to get rid of us first!" She stopped, a somber face replacing her smile. "Everyone has a past, Erik…and many have regrets. I wish I had never met my stepfather…you are not the same person that everyone speaks about, Erik…I know." She smiled again. "It must be strange, hearing the rumors of your ghost haunting the Opera House."

Erik shrugged in a gesture of indifference. "It is a bit strange…but I would rather them think me dead. It is easier that way."

Erik and Elisabeth made there way back into the empty dressing room. Elisabeth ran her hand down Erik's coat, clearing away the dust and cobwebs. Erik cleared his throat.

"You will more than likely hear more rumors of the ghost, Elisabeth…but now you know how important it is for you not to react. And, by the way, what in the world possessed you to tell Brian that ghosts were real? He slept with Christine and I last night…" Elisabeth rolled her eyes.

"I told him there was no such thing as the Opera Ghost! He overheard one of the ballet girls talking about a man with no face…"

Erik sighed. "I swear, if I find the person who told him ghosts were real, I will make them wish they had never told a ghost story in their life!"

Elisabeth just laughed. "He'll get over it…let's get out of here."

Elisabeth and Erik moved from the room. Erik walked with a better gait than before; he felt as though a giant weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

* * *

A grubby, grimy man made his was down the old roads of Paris sometime after midnight. His face was unkind and dirty; his grey eyes beamed through the mire and stubble present on his face. He walked with an uneven step, wavering a little as he stepped onto the curb. He was so very tired…and not even the drinks were able to burn the failure from his mind. He had lost everything…and the only sure thing in his life had vanished. And if he didn't find her… 

Nathan Chien was at the end of his rope. His wife had died two weeks prior…not that he particularly cared about her. He had married her in hopes of gaining her family fortunes…he had been carefully and dutifully feeding her poison for ages. Nathan had plans for the girl as well; her mother's only daughter, although Anita had really not cared for her, all things considering…Elisabeth. Her name burned in Nathan's mind. Her beautiful eyes, such a perfect shade of green; the long, luxurious locks that were as black as the night…she was a rare beauty, a gem among the rocks. Nathan had been very careful to contain his own lustful thoughts toward her. He longed for her, to be the one to claim her innocence…but he had more lucrative plans for her. Men would pay for her company, most assuredly. To be honest, Nathan cared nothing for the boy, his son; he never had. His birth had been an absolute accident; it saddled Nathan with extra baggage that he would eventually have to be rid of…but the girl was different. Elisabeth had been, er, sold, so to speak. Nathan had sold her to a wealthy and powerful Baron who happened to live in Paris…and then she had vanished. Unfortunately for Nathan, the Baron had given him all the money in advance…and now he had no Elisabeth, and the Baron's men wanted to break his legs. Now not only was he in trouble with the wrong sort of people, he discovered that when his wife died she had left all the money to Elisabeth! Could life get any worse for poor, mistreated, misunderstood Nathan? He tripped, flying headfirst into a melted slush puddle; it coated his clothing with freezing cold mud and water. How could things have gotten so out of hand? He had never intended to come to Paris; it was the only lead he had to Elisabeth's whereabouts…but he knew he couldn't stay in Calais…the Baron's men were already looking for him. But then again, he found himself in the lion's den, so to speak…the Baron's men would not have to look far to discover him right under their noses. Nathan found a small back alley and prepared to stay the cold night out on the street.

His wife, on her death bed, had said that Elisabeth might have escaped to Paris with an older sibling that Nathan had not known about. He had demanded a description, but she would not say, and Nathan had ended up throttling her to death…all things considered, Nathan had been doing the old bat a favor. Being beaten and shook to death was much faster than the slow acting poison that would have collapsed her lungs. He was doing her a favor, yeah, that's it. Nathan often had to do people 'favors'; some people just didn't have the will to live…or maybe they would benefit more from the eternal sleep of death, so Nathan put them out of their misery. His conscious thoughts knew the things he did were wrong, but Nathan always found a way to justify his misdeeds. Now, here he was, trying to sleep in the slums of Paris. He had arrived, hoping for some indication of where the girl might be…and had found nothing. If he didn't find the girl, the Baron was going to have his head! It was only a matter of time before he was found…and if there was one thing that Nathan Chien loved, it was himself.

A gust of wind blew a paper into his face. Nathan pulled it away furiously when he noticed a small ad in the bottom corner advertising a masquerade ball at some Opera House. He stared a moment in shock, carefully wiping at the wet ink, smearing some of the letters. But the picture stood out perfectly against the grime around it. There, staring back at him, was Elisabeth. She was dressed in an elaborate ball gown, and held a beautiful mask on a stick. She was flashing a brilliant smile that Nathan found himself mirroring.

"Ah…there you are, love."

* * *

Stefan arrived early to the Opera Populaire to oversee the decorations of the entry way for the masquerade ball. Everything was in the traditional red, gold, black, and white…even the dress code reflected the color choices. As Stefan glanced around the room, he couldn't help but smile as the room starting to come together. The entry room floor had been polished to a glowing shine, and the stairs led to more dancing space. There were several balconies that overlooked the main dancing floor, and even a couple that overlooked the Paris ambiance. Stefan motioned for one of the maids to move past him when he heard Erik's voice. 

"No! What the Hell were you thinking?"

Stefan looked up into the small orchestra area. Erik was standing over Donovan, his face red in anger.

"You cannot change the arrangement of this piece! I forbid it!" Donovan was equally mad.

"It's not your composition…it's _Masquerade_! You didn't write it, so why would you care if I changed a few things in the song…I'm just trying to make it sound better…more modern and up-to-date."

Stefan chuckled to himself. Erik and Donovan had fights like this nearly every day. Erik was a traditionalist…but Donovan liked the sound of the more modern compositions. They butted heads constantly…but once both calmed down, all would be well…and ninety percent of the time, Erik got his way. _Not that it's a big surprise that he always wins_, Stefan thought sarcastically of his friend.

"Excuse me, Monsieur…are you the Manager of this fine Opera House?"

Stefan turned his attention to the man addressing him. He was a dirty little man, fat around the middle with a balding spot on the top of his thinning hair. He smelled of stale cigarette smoke and ale…Stefan was unable to stop his nose from wrinkling.

"Yes…I am…and you might be?"

The fat little man held out a dirty hand. "The name's Nathan Chien, Sir…and I'm hoping you can help me." Stefan acknowledged his introduction with a nod of his head, declining to touch the man's hand. Chien didn't seem to notice, however; he put on a broad grin.

"I was looking in the papers, Monsieur, and I found an advertisement for the _Bal Masque_…there was a girl in the ad…she looked a lot like my daughter. Her name was Elisabeth Peters, and she ran away from home about four months ago…she left me and her dying mother, and it was her mother's last wish that I find her…please, do you know where she is?"

Warning bells were ringing harshly in Stefan's head. Elisabeth…the last name was wrong, but she had certainly appeared in the ads…but what about Erik? He had said that his mother had died ages ago…and there was too close a family resemblance to say they weren't related…what was going on?

"You are mistaken, Sir…I know of no 'Elisabeth Peters'," Stefan replied swiftly. "All the girls we hired for the ads were models from another agency…our own employees are very much occupied and too busy to appear in our ads, unfortunately. I am sorry to hear of your loss, Sir, and I bid you good luck in your search _elsewhere_." The emphasis on the last word was enough to tell this vile man that the conversation was over. Chien nodded his head and turned and left the building. Stefan sighed in relief, but then yelped in fright as a hand reached from the shadows and pulled him within. Erik quickly let go of Stefan.

"I'm sorry, my friend…but who was that man?"

Stefan eyed him heatedly. "You should tell me! He claims to be Elisabeth's father…says she ran away from her sick mother…you have some explaining to do, it would seem."

Erik's eyes were far away. "Was the man named Nathan?"

"Yes."

Erik swore loudly with a string of expletives that would make a sailor blush. Stefan looked at him in alarm. Erik sighed, expelling the rage within him.

"That man is not Elisabeth's father…he is her stepfather; estranged, and with good reason. I will explain all; come with me."

Stefan and Erik went to Stefan's office and sealed themselves in. Erik explained everything: meeting his mother for the first time in years; saving Elisabeth from harm and death; Elisabeth pleading for him to take her and Brian away; finding out later what her stepfather had in store for her.

"It has always haunted the back of my mind that she would be found…Nathan is an evil man, Stefan; unspeakable things were planned for my sister, all by that man's hand. I have tried to protect her...but she is drawn to the stage and the spotlight; it was only a matter of time before her picture would appear in the paper, people would know her by name...word will eventually travel: I do not blame you, my friend...plase don't think that. I sometimes regret my rash decision to bring Elisabeth to this Opera House...but I have never regretted taking her from that uncouth man.I am sorry for not being totally honest with you. We thought the less that knew, the better."

Stefan nodded. "We must keep an eye on this, Erik…this could become a problem. The man had trouble written across his face with every word spoken. I have no doubts that this Chien would hurt Elisabeth if he finds her."

Erik's eyes glowed. "We shall make quite certain that he never gets close enough to her to have the chance…"

* * *

The night of Bal Masque finally arrived, bringing with it excitement and entertainment. The Opera Populaire looked mesmerizing, and as Erik and Christine entered the ball room area, even Erik had to stop and stare in amazement at the sheer number of people who had chosen to attend the annual masquerade ball. Erik grasped Christine's hand tightly as the feeling of claustrophobia began to settle in. Christine raised the mask she wore over her face slightly, and kissed Erik's bottom lip. 

"Love, this time you fit perfectly…enjoy the night." Erik smiled as he deepened the kiss, feeling Christine's arms move around his neck…

"Wow…most people like to keep that kind of thing in a more private setting." Erik grinded his teeth together in annoyance and pulled away from Christine. He glanced at the Vicomte in a look of utter loathing.

"What my wife and I do is none of your concern, Vicomte…I seem to remember a time when you had no trouble displaying your affections in a most public way…"

Christine gave Erik a warning look. "Raoul, where is Elisabeth? I thought you were taking her as your date?" At the word 'date', Erik grimaced and set his jaw.

"I am…I haven't escorted her from her room yet. She was having trouble with her dress, from my understanding." Erik leaned in close to the Vicomte.

"Don't let her out of your sight tonight, boy. It is imperative that she remain in your company…no matter how I might object." Raoul nodded in understanding. Erik had explained the situation to him earlier.

"I shall be on the look out for a ghastly man with a smell…shouldn't be too hard to spot." Erik rolled his eyes and poked Raoul hard in the chest, pinning him uncomfortably against the wall without seeming to obvious.

"You think he wouldn't take the time to change into respectable clothes to blend in? You are more foolish than I thought, Vicomte. Just keep your damn eyes open…I will be watching."

"Well, if you're watching, then what is the point of me watching?" Erik gave a low growl and Christine had to put a restraining hand on her husband's shoulder.

"Raoul, just go! My goodness, you two will never get along."

Erik glanced over his shoulder as Raoul entered the sea of people surrounding them. "You can say that again. Brainless fop," Erik murmured under his breath.

* * *

"Elisabeth, you look fine…what in the world is the hold-up?" Raoul spoke through a closed door. Elisabeth had opened it five seconds previously and had slammed the door in his face. The small glimpse that he got of her look breathtaking… 

"Elisabeth! If you stay in your room much longer, the masquerade will be over!"

"FINE!" Elisabeth opened the door furiously. She glared at Raoul. He looked her over.

"I don't see the problem, Elisabeth…you look beautiful."

Elisabeth sighed and shook her head. "I don't have any shoes…Meg borrowed my only pair…"

Raoul looked up in confusion. "You let her borrow your only shoes? My, you're a good friend…"

Elisabeth looked at him in frustration. "I thought I had another pair! But I don't…what am I going to do?"

"Go barefoot?"

"I couldn't possibly…"

Raoul circled her, looking at her closely. "Yes, you could. Your dress covers your feet completely…no one will notice the difference, my dear." Raoul pulled her close into a warm embrace. "Besides…you're not dancing with anyone but me."

Elisabeth blushed. "Oh, Raoul…all right. Let's go!"

Raoul led Elisabeth to the dance floor. Raoul enjoyed ball room dancing immensely, and Elisabeth was a quick study. Soon they tired, and they went to the refreshment table for some ale. Raoul was red faced from dancing; his arms were sore from holding them in the same position for so long. He imagined Elisabeth felt the same.

"I hope that one day they come up with new dances…It's not very fun when your arm feels like it's going to fall off." Raoul laughed as Elisabeth spoke exactly what was on his mind. He scanned the dance floor, searching for Erik and Christine…and found them, the center of a small group. Damn, that Phantom was a good dancer! He made Christine appear to float above the very ground. Raoul scowled just as Elisabeth chose to comment on them.

"Look at my brother and Christine! I believe that they're the best dancers here…"

"I could do better than Erik," Raoul murmured, more to himself than to Elisabeth. Elisabeth heard anyway. She laughed.

"No need to get mad, Raoul. Or are you perhaps a little jealous," Elisabeth teased gently.

Raoul scowled again. "I am not jealous of Erik! How can anyone be jealous of a man with a face like that!" The words had barely left his mouth when a sharp hand stung his cheek. The sound echoed through Raoul's mind.

"How dare you! You have some nerve, Raoul de Chagny…you will not insult my brother in my presence…he is more of a man than you ever will be, deformed or nay!" She spoke quietly and for his ears only. "I shall not be seen with you right now…I am going for some air." Elisabeth spun on her heels and left Raoul standing there, opened mouth and dumbfounded. What had he done?

* * *

Elisabeth walked as fast as she could in her bare feet, trying desperately not to attract attention to herself. She headed to the nearest balcony and gasped as the cold air hit her face. She glanced around in relief; she was alone. Elisabeth let the tears fall. How could Raoul hate her brother so? She thought…maybe he had feelings for her. But how could he love Elisabeth if he hated her brother so? It could never work…or maybe Raoul was still in love with Christine. Elisabeth could never take Christine's place…but she didn't want to. She just wanted to be herself. Elisabeth walked to the edge of the balcony and put her head on her hand. 

"Nice night, isn't it, love?" Elisabeth felt her insides grow cold as her body filled with recognition at that voice. She turned to regard the little man coldly.

"Nathan. What an unpleasant surprise. I had heard you were in Paris…I would advise you to stay away from me. I am yours no longer."

"Ah, well, that's where you're wrong, love. You belong to me…you just don't want to admit it. Well, technically you don't belong to me anymore…you belong to the Baron. I'm gonna make sure he gets what he's paid for." Elisabeth looked at him as tears filled her eyes.

"You can't do this! I have a life, and it's better than the one I was living before…I didn't know life was better than the Hell I was living in…I will not succumb to you anymore!" Nathan darted forward and grabbed Elisabeth painfully by the wrists. She shriek, but Nathan silenced her with a swift kick into her leg.

"None of that love…now, you know the drill; I'm sure you haven't forgotten. I will kill you if you move."

Elisabeth laughed bitterly. "I don't believe that for a second, Nathan. You wouldn't kill me." Nathan hit her roughly across the mouth.

"You're right, love…but I'll make you wish you were dead…and I'll start with your little boyfriend."

Elisabeth paled beneath the tears and pain. "You wouldn't."

Nathan laughed. "Of course I would."

"UNHAND HER!"

Nathan whirled away from the balcony edge to confront the new threat. "Ah…speaking of the boyfriend…what do you intend on doing with that sword, Vicomte? You want to run me through?" Nathan moved Elisabeth roughly to cover his middle. "Go ahead! Try now!" Nathan laughed, until he felt a sharp stick in his back. He turned his head slightly to discover that one of the shadows had unattached itself from the darkness. A large rapier was now pointed at his back. Nathan's eyes widened in shock as a white mask seemed to float into the air before his eyes. The dark face's eyes glittered in amusement.

"It seems I can 'run you through' as you so eloquently put it, _Nathan_. Let go of Elisabeth. Now." Nathan did just that. He rapidly turned his body so he faced the talking shadow. The shadow moved closer toward him…and Nathan could see it was a man.

"Who the Hell are you?" The man smiled a cold smile.

"'Who the Hell', indeed, my good Sir…perhaps not so good. Prepare to meet whatever Maker you have, _Nathan_." Erik raised his weapon as Nathan closed his eyes.

"NO!"

Erik stopped, his sword moving to Nathan's throat. "No? Why, Elisabeth? This man…he has been your tormentor! He deserves death…"

Elisabeth shook her head. "His blood on your hands is not worth it. I will not have you kill on my behalf."

Erik glanced at Elisabeth. "I want to end this, Elisabeth."

"Not like this, brother…not like this."

Erik looked at the pitiful man at the end of his well used blade. "You will never come near me or my family again, Nathan. Or I will kill you…you have my word." The man quivered at Erik's deadly tone of voice. After a full moment of trepidation, the man finally nodded, his fat neck rising up and down on the blade's flat edge. Finally, Erik took his rapier from the man, and Nathan left without another word. Erik looked at Elisabeth, who was wrapped tightly in Raoul's arms. "Did he hurt you?"

Elisabeth hesitated, then nodded. Raoul held her hands to inspect the bruises…and the darkening one on her cheek. Erik looked her over as well. He then directed a gaze that could have killed at theVicomte.

"What the Hell were you thinking, Vicomte!…How could youleave her alone after everything I told you! It's lucky I followed you…you can't follow simple instructions! She could have been killed!" Erik advanced on Raoul slowly. Raoul bent his head in shame.

"I know…I can never forgive myself…I'm sorry, Elisabeth."

Elisabeth stood between her brother and Raoul. "Erik…it was my fault…I went off on my own." Erik's eyes softened a touch, but then hardened in protectiveness.

"You foolish girl…I can't lose you, Elisabeth…you have to start listening to me, or I swear I'm going to lock you in your room!" Elisabeth hugged him.

"Thank you, Erik…you saved my life. I think that's twice I owe you," Elisabeth said, trying to make light of the horrible situation. She walked over to Raoul, who still had his head bowed. She took his cheeks into the palms of her hands, and she kissed him gently upon the lips. "I'm sorry, Raoul…I should have never have left you…thank you for coming after me…I would have been taken if not for you."

Erik cleared his throat. "Enough with the apologies. We must ensure that this doesn't happen again…although the best insurance was for me to kill the bastard. No matter; Elisabeth, go with the Vicomte to your rooms…get her cleaned up, fop, then return to the ball. Go now!" Raoul and Elisabeth headed inside. Erik fled to the darkest part of the balcony, becoming shadow once more. He raised his hand in a fist and hit the wall hard, feeling the pain spread through him as his dying adrenaline fled him. Erik was relieved that he had thought to follow the Vicomte…his face had been far too easy to read. He knew something was wrong…and Elisabeth was not with him at that. The Vicomte had provided the perfect distraction as Erik slipped in among the shadows, his prey's attention focused solely on the Vicomte, paying no mind to the man coming in for the kill…Erik had wanted to slay him so terribly it almost hurt him…never before had the bloodlust been so much; almost too much to bear. He could still see the man in his mind…could see his life ebb away as his life's blood drained away from him…it would have been very satisfying. Erik sighed as he shook his head to clear it. He had respected his sister's wishes…he only hoped that he did not live to regret it.

* * *

**Thank you especially to my reviewers...I love you guys!**


	20. An Angel's Protector

**Demons of the Past**

**Ch. 20: An Angel's Protector**

**Author's note: **Well, this is it. The last chapter. I have to say that I am super sad to see my story come to a close…but I have to say that I never dreamed I would write so much! Over a hundred thousand words…and over one hundred reviews! Everyone has been so supportive of this fic, and I thank you so very much for your input-from the paragraph long responses to the one liners, every review that I received made my day. I dedicate this chapter to everyone that has truly enjoyed reading this fic, as I have truly enjoyed writing it. For those that may want to know what's up next, I intend on writing another Phantom of the Opera fic, but it will be set in Modern Day. I know that's a turn off for some people, but I urge you to give it a shot if you liked this story. I don't know when I will post next; I just have a concept and some basic research done now for the new fic. Just keep an eye out for me, my friends…and thanks for sticking with me.

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera...although I did steal Erik's Red Death mask as a souvenir of the story…OH! Not a good idea! (Erik chases me around with the old reliable Punjab) Hey! Cut that out…you can't use that 'til later in the story…_

And now, on with the finale…

* * *

(Two weeks after the events of _Bal Masque_)

Erik felt the undeniable pressure of a hundred problems pressing against his burning head. He sat in a crimson covered chair in the auditorium, his head in his hands. The new production at the Opera Populaire was an old favorite: _Hannibal_. That should make things simple, right? Erik could imagine the very veins of his body were pulsating from the pain of dealing with incompetent people: actors, singers, dancers, musicians, stage hands…the list went on and on. Erik's responsibilities demanded that he remain at the Opera House until all knots were removed from the coil of rope that should have been a working production…and that led to another stressful problem. He was never home. Christine stayed behind with the twins and Brian, rarely gracing the Opera House with her presence. Erik hated being away from her…but when he returned home from his day dealing with insolent, arrogant actors, all Erik wanted to do was crawl into bed. Christine was not much better; the twins occupied her hands at all times…not to mention that Brian was a handful in himself. She was as tired as he was at the end of the day. Erik missed the gentle touch of his wife…missed how she whispered his name in the night. He removed his hands from his face and dug his long fingers painfully into his own wrists. Erik relished in the release the small amount of pain gave him; it was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. How had he allowed himself to drift away from the love of his life? It had started not long after the twins were born…there was simply no time! Erik shook his head to himself. That was no excuse…he had promised to be there for her…and he had not been. He tried…but trying was something he did not believe in. You either do, or you do not. Erik glanced at his pocket watch, noting the time was just after five p.m. He lifted himself from his chair resolutely and began to walk toward the stage.

"Elisabeth?"

She looked up as he called her name. Elisabeth had not spoken with her brother for quite a while; he wasn't avoiding her, per say, but he would only speak to her on stage to correct her and issue more instructions on her part. She was playing the coveted role of Elissa, and she was proud to follow in Christine's footsteps. Elisabeth looked at her brother critically, noting the worry lines etched on the part of his forehead that she could see. His eyes were dull and lifeless, and he moved as if directed by a puppet master. Elisabeth knew that the events of _Bal Masque_ had hurt him deeply…but something else was weighing upon him.

"Yes, brother?" Elisabeth responded as Erik climbed onto the stage and sat on the edge. Elisabeth joined him, her long legs folded underneath her skirts. Erik looked her over for a minute, then, seemingly satisfied, turned away to stare at the cleaning ladies in the auditorium.

"You are doing wonderfully in your role, Elisabeth…I just wanted to remind you that you must practice that stanza in 'Think of Me'. You must be perfectly confident, my dear…make it your own." Elisabeth reached up and smoothed a loose piece of black hair from her brother's face.

"What is troubling you so, Erik? You are so very tense…care to talk about it?" Erik pulled stiffly away from her touch.

"Not particularly…I do wonder if you have had anymore contact with your stepfather…you have not seen him about the Opera House, have you?" Elisabeth was not surprised that Erik didn't want to speak of his problems…but his question puzzled her.

"I would have come to you at the first indication of his presence, Erik…surely you know that?"

Erik sighed. "I do not mean to imply otherwise…it has been two weeks since his appearance, Elisabeth, and not a word or whisper about his whereabouts. I had expected more from him."

Elisabeth shrugged. "Nathan is an easily frightened man, Erik…perhaps you scared him off with your threat."

"No," Erik said, the word thick with finality, "I know that he would not give up so easily…Elisabeth, he traveled all the way from Calais to find you! You said yourself that he has promised you to some Baron…why would he not attempt your abduction for a second time? I do not aim to tempt fate…it is merely puzzling."

Elisabeth bowed her head. "Christine knows the name of the Baron that Nathan sold me to."

Silence met this statement as Erik pondered what she meant. _How could Christine know anything about this?_ "What do you mean?"

Elisabeth shifted slightly in her position on the stage. "She had a strange dream when she was unconscious after the twins were born…a dream where she was married to Raoul. When I told her of what Nathan had said, she turned very pale indeed, and told me that she knew the name of the Baron…Baron von Kempt. Christine said that in her dream, she met me having tea with the Baron…she believes she saw a parallel life; a life where one decision would have led to a whole new existence. It is rather bizarre…surely she told you of this?"

Erik felt his own blood drain from his face. Baron von Kempt had a reputation around Paris for a being a ruthless, power-hungry man…whispers said that he ran through servants like a family of four runs through bread. Of all the men…Erik shook his head. "She mentioned her dream to me when she first woke up that night…but she has said nothing else on the subject."

"Perhaps she hasn't found the time?" Elisabeth posed the question tentatively; broaching a subject that she knew might put her brother in a foul mood. She was right.

Erik growled, low and deep in his throat. "What are you insinuating, Elisabeth? That I'm never home? That I never see my wife? That I haven't had a decent conversation with her in ages?" Erik felt the anger flood him, his eyes narrowing to take in Elisabeth's shrugging figure. He had just voiced the fears and guilt that had been plaguing him for months, and now that they were verbal he felt no ease of the pain…only a resurgence of angry guilt.

"Erik, it's always difficult after a new baby…and in your case, two new babies! Your family is different…you just have to adjust."

Erik started to rise quickly from the ground. "I do not need relationship advice from you, Elisabeth…nor do I need reassurance." Elisabeth reached out and grabbed his arm, using him as leverage to help herself from the floor.

"I know that I am not an expert; I do not pretend to be. You don't have to get so angry. Erik…I only care about your well-being…and look at yourself! Your clothes are hanging from your body…you look as though you haven't slept in weeks! You are not taking care of yourself!"

Erik spun away from her. "I do not need to hear this from you! Play nursemaid and counselor to someone else, Elisabeth…I have neither the time nor the patience for this." He swiftly moved toward the side exit of the stage.

"Fine! Go off angry! Waste away to nothing, or fall asleep standing up! See if I care!" Elisabeth's irritated words followed Erik as he fled the auditorium and Elisabeth's accusing stare.

* * *

Erik made his way home, ignoring the driving wind and snow as he pulled his whipping cloak closer to his body. The snow never bothered him; the cold was like a persistent irritant, and nothing more. His mind swarmed with the many problems he now faced…he had to try and solve them. What was the most important problem? Erik thought of his wife. Yes, the problem surrounding Christine and himself was the number one worry on Erik's mind…and the number two worry was this Nathan business. He pushed all thoughts out of his mind but one: the image of Christine. Which imagine had he chosen? Was it the image of her, staring at him with doe eyes as he extended his hand to help her from the gondola on the night he had sung to her of the music of the night? Or was it the image of her as Aminta, rising gracefully above the stage, her small mouth opened wide as the words of passion emerged from her lips…no. It was none of those images. In their place was the image of Christine holding their daughters for the first time. Ironically, that was the night that their problems had first begun…Erik closed his eyes as he walked, focusing his mind on the one thought more important than all others. He had had so many second chances with Christine…he could not let distance separate them. Erik knew that he had never been much of a companion to Christine…he kept to himself mostly, not liking to gossip about his comings and goings as she sometimes indulged. There was one thing Erik was sure of: he loved her more now than the day he had first discovered that he was in love with her. He could mend the rift between them; and the mending would begin now.

Erik unlocked the front door of his house and entered the front entry. The downstairs was dark; few candles were lit. Erik raised his voice to call through the house:

"Christine?"

A response: "I'm up here, love…in the nursery."

Erik climbed the stairs two at a time, anxious to see his wife. As he approached the nursery he heard a sharp crash, then a moan. Erik turned automatically towards the noise, and was surprised to find it emitting from his music room. _Funny_, Erik thought as he headed for the opened door, _normally I have the door locked._ He stopped in the doorway and stared in shock. His music room…it was destroyed! It was mayhem! And there, in the center of it all, was little Brian, holding his arm and crying loudly. Erik entered carefully, trying to assess the damage. He made his way to Brian.

"What happened in here, Brian?"

Brian looked up at Erik with large, scared eyes. "I was playing Racing Horse…and I ran into your desk! I got a scrap…look!" He held up his arm, and Erik saw bright blood on the boy's shirt sleeve. Erik sighed and picked Brian up and carried him to his bedroom. Erik placed him on the bed and took off Brian's shirt.

"What have I told you about going into my music room? It's off limits, right? What were you doing in there?" Erik spoke quietly, but he could barely keep his anger in check. He did not want to yell at his young brother, but the urge was hard to resist.

"Momma told me to stay on the second floor…and I was bored. I saw the door and it was open, I swear! And I was just going to look around…but then I played Racing Horse, and I hurt myself!"

Erik looked at him sternly. "If you hadn't disobeyed me, you wouldn't have gotten hurt. Your arm is fixed…and you stay in this room for the rest of the night. You broke the rules, Brian…and rules have consequences."

Brian looked at him with tearful eyes. "I'm being punished?"

"Yes."

"Oh." Brian turned away from Erik and pulled his legs in close to his body, pouting to himself. Erik rose swiftly and exited the room, shutting the door behind him. He headed for the music room, picking up the various scattered sheets of music as he made his way to the desk. _Brian must have hit the desk rather hard_, Erik mused, as he noticed the overturned objects and ink…Erik began to clear away the mess, noting that nothing of importance had been ruined by the spreading inkwell. But there was an object missing from his desk…Erik began to search frantically for it, not seeing it anywhere. Finally, after getting on his hands and knees, he found the object under his desk.

"Please don't let it be broken," Erik muttered to himself, picking up the small music box. He had made this music box himself: it had a toy monkey placed protectively over the box, playing the cymbals expertly between his tiny hands. Erik opened the lid of the box with baited breath…and no sound emerged. Erik closed his eyes, feeling the last link of his past life die in his hands…Erik tossed the music box in a rage as he stormed from the room and entered the nursery. A tired Christine greeted his eyes.

"There you are, love…how was your day at the Ope-" Christine's voice trailed off as she viewed the look of fury on her husband's face. "What in the world…what's wrong?"

Erik jerked his head at her, smirking unkindly. "What do you do all day, Christine? Do you sit in here and occupy your time with the twins, and forget all about Brian? Do you know where he was a moment ago? Do you know what he has done?" Erik paced the floor before Christine, his angry eyes taking in her hurt and bewildered expression, but he cared not.

"What do you mean 'what do I do all day'? I work at trying to maintain this house! I care for two screaming infants non-stop…and I chase Brian from one end of the house to the other, all while you're at work. But then again, you're not home to see that, so you wouldn't know that I do all these things…what has Brian done?"

Erik lowered his eyes to slits, his glowing blue green eyes still vivid between the lids. "He was in my music room…and it is in utter disarray because of his presence! But what is worse…he has destroyed my music box!"

Christine raised her head to look into her husband's eyes. "Your music box…the one that plays 'Masquerade'? Oh, Erik…I am so sorry." Christine knew how much that music box meant to Erik…but he could not be placated with her words. He rounded on her, throwing his hands into the air.

"Of course you're sorry! But that doesn't change anything, now does it? If you had just kept an eye on Brian…none of this would have happened!"

Christine eyes narrowed. "You think this is my fault? Don't you normally keep your music room locked? Why wasn't it locked, Erik? I am not to be blamed for Brian's actions…or your carelessness!"

"I was not careless!" Erik roared, his loud voice filling the room. His twin daughters promptly began to scream. "If you can't keep up with the number of children in this house, then perhaps I should hire a nanny, Christine…perhaps a maid as well. If you can't handle your responsibilities, I can hire people that will!"

A speechless gasp emerged from Christine. "You think me an ill wife? I will not have strangers raising my daughters…but that is exactly what you have become! You're never home, Erik…I never see you, I never talk to you; you make no effort to help me! You expect me to be the perfect wife and the perfect mother…I feel so stretched and worn that eventually I shall break! Then what will you do, I wonder…what would you do, if you did not have your wife to scream at!"

Now it was Erik's turn to be speechless. He just stared at Christine, who was soothing Celena in her arms. She was right…she was absolutely infallibly right. Erik had entered the house with plans to put the air right between his wife and himself…and all he had managed to do was widen the rift. He opened his mouth to speak, but Christine held up her hand.

"No. You are absolutely right. I have failed you as a wife…and as a mother. I shall endeavor to do better, _husband_. Until then, I beg you to bear with me and my faults…as I have done with your numerous ones."

"Christine…please…I'm sor-" Erik started, but Christine swiftly turned her head to hide the tears.

"Please go now, Erik…leave me in solitude…I beg you." Erik looked at her turned face; the cheek he could see had a flood of tears running down into her mass of dark curls. He reached out to touch her face, but she pulled away from him. Erik felt the sadness weigh against him…but what was worse was the pride. He should have fallen to his knees at that moment and begged her forgiveness…he should scoop her into his arms and kiss away the tears she cried for him…but instead, his prideful, arrogant body strode quickly away from his weeping wife. Erik followed his feet back into his music room…and he picked up his broken music box. Was this miniscule thing worth the pain he had just inflicted upon his wife? Erik gazed at the box, wishing he could trade it for the angry words he had just spoken. What could he do? Erik gathered his tools around him. He spent the rest of the night tinkering with his music box until it was perfect again…not aware that his wife spent her first lonely night in their marriage bed without him.

* * *

Christine awakened from a fitful night of sleep. She kept turning over in bed, expecting to feel her husband's comforting presence beside her…but he wasn't there. He didn't return to their chambers last night. Christine knew he was upstairs…every once in a while in the night she would hear him curse loudly, or drop something heavy on the floor. Christine did not have to get up for the twins once; Erik apparently took care of that as well. She slowly withdrew from the bed, pulling a robe onto her slender body as she padded her way to the kitchen. Erik normally left her notes on the kitchen counter…and she prayed that this day was no exception. Christine regretted her words from last night; all the emotions she had been feeling over the past month had boiled over in the form of her angry tears. She walked slowly into the kitchen and breathed a sigh of relief. On the table was a note…and a long stem red rose. _Where in the world did he get this_, Christine wondered, touching the delicate crimson petals lightly with her index finger. She eyed the note next.

_**Dearest,**_

**_I shall endeavor to hasten my return from the Opera Populaire today. We have much to discuss…and I have much to apologize for. I have taken you for granted…and I shall spend the rest of my days proving myself worthy of your love. Words cannot express in such a way as to convey what I mean to say…I merely ask you to remember my love for you is above all other things._**

**_Yours,  
Erik_**

Christine made her way up the stairs, clutching her note and rose tightly against her breast. She checked on her daughters first…making sure that all was right. They both slept soundly. Christine set the rose on the dresser by the window; she tucked the note into the pocket of her robe. She then checked on Brian…his little chest rose and fell in its own rhythm. Christine pushed a piece of his black hair from his face, and he opened his blue eyes.

"Hi," Brian said sleepily. Christine smiled at him.

"Hello there…did you sleep well, little bee?" Brian nodded once, then sadness clouded his eyes.

"I made Daddy mad…I didn't mean to." Christine hugged him tightly.

"I know you didn't…but sometimes we have to do what we're told without disobeying…there are things in Erik's music room that could have hurt you if they had fell on you…and Erik's most prized 'toys' are in there…and we don't want to break Daddy's toys, do we?"

Brian nodded, understanding completely. He didn't want anyone to break his toys, after all… "Momma, I'm hungry…can we have bacon?"

Christine laughed. "Of course, little bee…get dressed and you can help!"

After breakfast, Christine wondered into the playroom. Brian had already set up several of his toys, and Christine moved the twins to their cradles in the room. She took a basket of mending from behind her chair and began to mend while her daughters slept and Brian played various games with his toys. The morning flew by, and before Christine knew it the clock struck one o'clock. She wrinkled her nose a bit and she put down her mending.

"Brian, let's take the babies to the nursery…you can play in your room, all right?" Brian nodded his agreement, and Christine carefully carried her daughters up the stairs. As she was changing their diapers, she heard a noise from downstairs. Was it Erik? She placed the babies in their cribs and left the room, standing at the doorway for a moment. Something wasn't right…

"Brian! Come here a moment," Christine spoke quietly into the lighted hallway. He trotted out from his room. "Will you stay with the twins a moment? I'm going downstairs." Brian nodded absentmindedly, and took his toy horse with him. Christine shut the door soundly behind them.

"Erik?" she called, hoping to hear his melodious voice from downstairs float to her…but she heard nothing. Christine carefully walked down the stairs. "Erik?" she called again, this time a little more frantic. She walked into the front entry way. The front door was still locked…Christine moved into the living room. She cried out as her foot stepped on something sharp. Christine looked down to find the floor glittering with broken glass…she raised her head and discovered that the large picture window in the front of the house had been shattered. Christine glanced around her quickly, whirling in place, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. "Eri-" Christine shrieked as she felt hands come across her face. A rag of some kind was being held to her nose and she smelt a sickeningly sweet smell before her world turned to black. A man stood over her and watched her crumple to the floor, making no attempts to stop her fall. He laughed, a cold evil laugh that filled the room with trepidation.

"There is no Erik here, love."

* * *

Erik arrived at the Opera Populaire with a heavy heart. He had not wanted to come today, but their was a meeting taking place in the afternoon with Raoul and Stefan that he simply had to attend…and there were too many orchestra problems to count. He spent the whole morning tending to the orchestra. Erik didn't even have the heart to argue with Donovan…all he wanted to do was get home and talk to Christine. Finally, at one o'clock, it was time for his meeting. After this, he would go home, even if he had to fake sickness…

"_Hannibal_'s opening night has already sold out, and it has been on market for only two days! We have sold out every production this season, gentlemen…do you know what that means?" Stefan grinned over his glasses as he inspected the numbers in his hand.

"More money for the patrons?" Raoul said, giving Erik a sidelong glance. Erik was staring at the wall, and as he felt Raoul's eyes on him, he turned his attention back to their discussion.

"No, Vicomte…think about something other than money for a change…we could hire new dancers and singers…design and build new and better sets…produce grand productions. We could even put money back into the Opera Populaire; we could increase it's size…the more money we put in to our efforts, the more profits we shall make in the long run…oh, Stefan, I despise talk of money…music is more important. I know that income is essential…but I would so enjoy it if the Opera Populaire was merely about sweet music."

Stefan chuckled. "That is the Maestro in you talking, Erik…we need your Patron status in here." Erik scowled.

"I don't see why I should be here anyway…you and the Vicomte are perfectly capable of making these types of business decisions without my expertise." Stefan sighed.

"Yes, but you need to be involved…the meeting won't last much longer, Erik. If there is something more important that you need to do, by all means, go take care of it." To Stefan's surprise, Erik rose to his feet, nodding his head in thanks. As he opened the door, a messenger stood before him.

"Monsieur Massenet…I have a message for you, Sir."

Erik took the note curiously. "Where did it come from?"

The boy shrugged. "Dirty little man…stank to high Heaven. Never told me his name."

A feeling of foreboding overtook Erik as he stared at the tiny note in his hand. Raoul glanced at him in surprise.

"Erik, what's going on?"

Erik read the note briefly, then curled it within his hands and bolted from the room without a word. Raoul raced to the floor and picked up the discarded note.

_**I have taken something you shall sorely miss, Maestro…**_

Raoul ran after Erik. He caught up with Erik's black robed figure just as he disappeared behind one of his many secret passageways. "Erik! Damn you, wait up!"

Erik did not slow his pace, and Raoul tried desperately to keep up. They emerged from the passageway into the very streets of Paris, and they were quickly at Erik's home. Erik opened the front door. He heard the desperate screams of his twins…that had to be his first concern. He bounded up the stairs, Raoul at his heels. Erik went straight to the nursery and found it locked. _Odd_, he mused…_this door only has a lock on the inside_. _No matter_…Erik called into the room.

"Brian? Are you in there?"

A small, timid voice answered: "Yes…I am."

"Can you unlock the door?"

A pause. "No…"

Erik motioned for Raoul to back up. "Brian, move as close as you can to the window, all right? Are you there?" There was a muffled response. Erik kicked the door open, the splintering wood raining upon him. He rushed in. Raoul followed, taking in everything in detail. Erik knelt beside Brian. "Tell me what happened, little bee."

Brian sputtered a minute. "Momma told me to wait in here with the babies…I heard her scream, so I locked the door like Lizzy showed me (but I don't know how to unlock it) and then the door rattled 'cause someone was trying to get it, but then they went away."

Erik breathed a sigh of relief. _The bastard tried to get my children_…Erik put a hand on Brian's shoulder. "You have saved your sisters' lives today, Brian…I have never been prouder…now, go to your room and gather your favorite toys…you get to go to the Opera House with me and Uncle Raoul."

"Yes!" Brian cheered as he leapt from the room. Raoul glanced at Erik curiously.

"Uncle Raoul?"

Erik didn't even look up. "There are more important things on my mind than your ego…it certainly conciliated the child, did it not?" Erik was leaning over his daughters, checking every feature for any indication that they might have been hurt. Satisfied, he turned to study Raoul. "Stay here with my girls, Vicomte…I must go and inspect the rest of the house." Raoul nodded once, and Erik crept back down the stairs, his hand going to a concealed knife at his belt. He walked into the living room and noted the broken window. Erik looked at the floor and noted blood as well. _Christine might have stepped here unknowingly_, he hoped in vain. That thought was certainly better than thinking that Nathan had hurt her… Erik took a deep breath of the air and smelled the sweet odor of chloroform. _She has been drugged!_ Erik felt the anger and rage flow through his body. If only he had killed that bastard…none of this would have happened! No…he could not let himself lose control. He must be cold…calculating. Erik headed back up the stairs and into the music room. He lifted a loose floorboard from underneath a rug…and pulled out his well used coil of rope. Underneath the rope was a long forgotten keepsake…Erik retrieved this as well and carefully placed it within his cloak. Erik smiled, a dark and ominous smile that beamed from the guilt he felt in his heart. He would wallow in blood again…and he would save his wife as only he knew how…Erik snapped the rope between his hands, feeling the oiled coils of rope within his fingers. _The bastard won't know what hit him…_

* * *

"All right, everyone…rehearsals are done for the day. Thank you all for your cooperation-wait; Madam Giry wants to see all ballet members before they leave. Other than that, have a great afternoon." Donovan bowed to his cast and turned his attention back to his own musical rehearsal. Elisabeth sighed in relief and gratefully took a small hand towel offered to her. Her dark locks were pulled from her face in a tight bun, but she still found that she glistened with perspiration in a most unlady like fashion. Elisabeth cleared her throat a little, feeling the burn from overuse. _Honey will fix anything_, she thought, as she headed back to her room, thoroughly exhausted. Elisabeth followed the lighted corridor automatically to her dressing room. Once inside, she turned and locked the door, going behind the screen to undress from her soiled rehearsal clothes. _First_, she thought, _I must rid myself of this cumbersome bun_! She pulled her dark hair loose, sighing in relief as her heavy hair descended past her shoulders. Elisabeth had just pulled her head through a suitable dress when she heard a creak. She rapidly pulled the dress over her eyes and peered out from behind the screen. Glowing eyes were staring at her from the ornate mirror's depths, and Elisabeth let out a sharp shriek as the mirror flung open. She was quickly quieted by her own recognition; her brother, holding Aurora, stepped through the mirror's threshold, followed closely by Brian and Raoul with Celena. Elisabeth glanced at them in utter confession. Erik did not even look at her; he simply walked to the door and opened it into the hallway. Elisabeth looked at Raoul, a question in her eyes, but he merely shrugged and gestured for her to follow. Elisabeth walked behind them at a brisk pace, surprised that not even Brian was speaking to her. Erik finally stopped as he approached his and Christine's bedroom; he opened the door forcibly. He gently placed Aurora in her crib and motioned for Raoul to do the same with Celena. It was then that Erik spoke his first words.

"Raoul, please go and find Madam Giry…I care not if she is occupied; tell her of the importance of the matter at hand, and have her meet me here at once." Erik spoke through gritted teeth, as if the effort for civil conversation was too much of an effort at the moment. As Raoul exited the room, Elisabeth called out:

"She's on stage, Raoul…you'll find her there."

Brian looked solemnly from Elisabeth to Erik. He tugged on Erik's coattail. "Can I go find nanny?" Erik shook his head.

"You must stay here…but you can go with Uncle Raoul for a moment. Would you like that?" Brian nodded enthusiastically, and he raced after Raoul. This left Erik and Elisabeth alone…Erik promptly turned his back on Elisabeth, turning his attention to his infant daughters. Elisabeth came forward and touched his shoulder.

"Erik…what has happened? Why did you bring the twins to the Opera House? And where is Christine?" Erik closed his eyes, feeling the anger begin to shake his limbs uncontrollably. _I will not lose control_…he would regret his words…_I will not lose control_… "Please, brother…talk to me?" _I will not lose control_…but his vision was beginning to blur with tears…_I will not lose control_….his wife, submitted to horrors that he could not imagine by Nathan, and he did not know where to begin to look for her….Erik swayed; he latched hold of his daughters' bassinet, hearing words spoken only for him: _This is your fault_…_**your fault**…her death is your fault…you let this happen…**your fault**…_

"This is your fault!" Erik roared, turning suddenly to grab Elisabeth by the arms roughly as he shook her, tears streaming down his face. "You let this happen! If I had just killed him…if I had ended it, none of this would have happened! But you…you protected him! I showed him mercy…because of you! My wife is dead because of you!" Erik let her go, watching as Elisabeth fell into a heap on the cold floor. The words were poison now…they streamed from Erik as the venom from a snake seeps into its victims. "All I want is my wife! My Christine…and he has taken her from me! I cannot live without her, Elisabeth…damn you! Damn you for your compassion!" Elisabeth stared into his eyes; she saw the living dead in his gaze. She lowered her eyes to the floor, tears running unchecked down her porcelain cheeks.

"Nathan…he has murdered Christine? He has taken away your life…to get to me." Elisabeth closed her eyes and tasted the guilt in her soul; it was a bitter sour taste that left unimaginable pain in its wake.

"No…not murdered. He took her from my home…kidnapped her. She could be dead…she could be alive; it doesn't matter. I do not know where she is…I cannot save her." Erik collapsed on the floor next to Elisabeth. "If I had been there…if I have stayed home today, like I wanted, none of this would have happened! If I had truly acted the part of husband to Christine…she would never be in this danger! We had a fight, Elisabeth…last night…it was horrible! She said…she said…'what would you do, if you did not have your wife to scream at'…and now…I…" Erik's voice trailed off suddenly, ending his thought abruptly. His shoulders began to shake, and without a word Elisabeth took her brother into her arms. He sobbed painfully into her hair as Elisabeth held him, stroking his back softly, whimpering tears of her own. Erik broke down, releasing his tears and torments…his fears and anguish. They sat there in silence for a long moment before Elisabeth released Erik. His mask had fallen in his unbidden state…but Elisabeth merely handed the cold leather mask back to her brother, taking in his haunted face calmly. Erik stared at the mask in his hands…then looked up at his sister as she spoke.

"I'm sorry, brother…for the pain that I have caused you…I should never have left Calais…I have been a burden."

Erik shook his head sadly. "You are not to blame for any of this, Elisabeth…I am truly sorry for saying otherwise. The fault is my own, little sister…and I have never regretted taking you from your horrible Hell…so much like my own self-inflicted solitude. What am I going to do, Elisabeth? What am I going to do…"

Erik didn't care that he was showing an obvious weakness…he didn't care that for the first time in his life he was indecisive about a crucial dilemma in his life. His walls were down…his defenses, his black cloak of concealment…but it was just Elisabeth beside him…and he could trust her above all others. She was his blood…

"We have to find her…maybe he will want a trade, brother…you have to pull yourself together, Erik." Elisabeth found her brother's eyes, and raised his head to study him. His horrible visage was contorted in grief and fear…and Elisabeth was unnerved by it. "We will find Christine…but you must know what you must do. You have to banish the fear and the dread." Erik looked into her eyes, clarity marring his features now. He stood quickly, walked away a little. He closed his eyes as he released a part of himself that had remained buried for a long time. Erik's slumped shoulders rose proudly; he stood straight, allowing his tall frame to give him confidence once again. He glanced once more at the mask in his hand before dropping it, watching it flutter harmlessly to the floor. Erik pulled from within his cloak a new mask…a mask that had filled him with power long ago. He put on the mask carefully, smoothing his dark hair to its original position. Erik turned to face Elisabeth slowly, and Elisabeth gasped. Standing before her was not her brother…she stared into the burning eyes of a death's head…those piercing eyes held no pain now…only fiery resolve.

"You are quite right, my dear. My torments shall become _Nathan's_ torments…my pain shall become his own…I will have my **REVENGE**!" Elisabeth flinched as Erik's voice seemed to fill her head...her very soul. _My God, who is this man?_ Elisabeth thought frantically, gazing at her brother reverently.

The door flew open into the room to reveal a harassed looking Madam Giry, followed closely by Raoul and Brian. Elisabeth glanced away from her brother for a moment…and when she glanced again he was gone. Elisabeth narrowed her eyes, trying to find where he was. She turned her attention back to Madam Giry, and to her surprise she seemed to be having a conversation with someone…but Elisabeth could hear nothing. From the puzzled look on Raoul's face, Elisabeth would bet that he didn't hear anything either.

"Are you sure this is what you want to do, Erik?" Madam Giry asked out loud to the darkness of the room.

**_Yes._** A voice hissed lightly in the silence of the room. Elisabeth moved her head back and forth. She had heard her brother clearly this time…but he had spoken closely in her ear…and yet no one was there. Ventriloquism, she thought with awe. She knew her brother was a master of his own voice…she had once heard him make flowers sing for her younger brother…but why wouldn't he appear before them now?

And then, she heard it…a tiny voice within her head, only for her ears.

**_Elisabeth…you must be strong. You must stay here…_**

"No!" Elisabeth said loudly. "I will not let you go alone!"

There was a sharp knock on the door. Stefan entered, holding a note in his hand. "Where is Erik? I have another note."

_**Read it…**_

Stefan was bewildered for a moment, looking for the source of the voice. Finding none, he read the note out loud. "_It seems we have a stalemate. A trade for a trade is in order…Elisabeth for Christine. You have until midnight tonight to make your decision…I await you at the graveyard._"

There was a slight hiss…and Erik appeared from the shadows, his death's head mask glowing with an unearthly light. Stefan uttered a small shriek that Erik silenced with a gesture. He had tried to avoid this…he did not want his friends to see him like this. Erik had to maintain his mindset…but this new development could not be handled with tricks.

"It changes nothing!" Erik murmured, though his voice filled every corner of the room. "I will still go alone."

Elisabeth rushed forward, glad to finally be able to grasp her brother firmly. "Erik, see reason! If you do not show with me in your custody, Nathan may simply kill Christine outright!" Erik paused and looked at Elisabeth, his eyes shining with pride.

"You are so very intelligent, Elisabeth…but I will not risk your safety. All paths to a solution to this problem are dangerous…but I will not risk more people's lives…you must stay here, so that I will at least know you are safe." Erik could not be swayed.

"I am not asking for your permission, Erik…I have to go! You can accept it and accompany me, offering all the protection I need…or I can follow you blindly…either way, I AM COMING WITH YOU!" A silence fell over Erik…his thoughts whirled within his head.

"I'm coming too, Erik…you cannot keep me from protecting the two women that I care for the most." The Vicomte added his words into the mix of conflicting thoughts that Erik was trying desperately to sort out. He finally shook his head in defeat.

"I do not like this…but if you go, you must obey my instructions…all of them! You will see things that you will not like…Vicomte, you know what it is I speak of." Erik turned his death's head toward Raoul, and he gulped visibly. Raoul found his feet moving closer to Erik…he raised his head and spoke words only for Erik.

"Yes…I do. Do you have the Punjab with you?" Erik's eyes burned within his mask, and he nodded pointedly. Raoul turned away and sighed.

"Then let's go save Christine, Erik…"

* * *

The night and its darkness had once been reassuring to Erik…but now it seemed to hold on ominous presence that he could not deny. His black cloak flapped in the cold wind…the December night showed no mercy to the three riders racing across the Paris streets. Erik led the small group through the snow flurries and the puddles of frozen water, careful of his horse as he galloped toward the cemetery. He had no doubts as to which cemetery Christine had been taken to…Erik smiled darkly. It was a cemetery he was most familiar with.

**Wandering child, so lost, so helpless…yearning for my guidance…**

Erik could not allow him to think of the precious moments he had shared with his Angel…he had to concentrate on the here and the now…

**Angel of Music, my protector…come to me strange Angel…**

He could hear her voice in his mind…she was singing songs in his head…he loved her so much…

Erik concentrated on the rapid tapping of his horse's hooves against the cobblestone road. He would find her…and she would be alive. He would not accept anything else. His Angel's protector was coming for her.

The entrance of the graveyard was quite suddenly before him. Erik reined in his horse to a stop and jumped gracefully from his back. Elisabeth glanced at the graveyard, noting the rolling mist through the small snowflakes.

"It's kind of creepy, isn't it?" Elisabeth accepted Raoul's hand as he helped her from the horse.

"Yes…what is it with graveyards and mist?" Raoul added, lingering in his embrace of his Elisabeth. She looked into his worried hazel eyes and squeezed his hand tightly.

"I'll be all right, Raoul…everything will be all right."

"I only wish I could be sure of that…I can't let anything happen to you, Elisabeth…I-" He was interrupted as Elisabeth kissed him passionately. Raoul pulled her close, feeling her tremble slightly in his embrace. He ran his fingers through her hair teasingly, and Elisabeth pulled away. Erik cleared his throat.

"Could we remember why we are here for a moment?"

Raoul looked at Elisabeth, three words gleaming in his eyes…but were left unsaid. Erik turned away from the two, seeing for a moment his own Christine…

"Let's go…stay aware, Raoul, Elisabeth…be on the lookout for anything."

Erik led the way into the graveyard…his two cohorts formed an informal triangle behind him. Erik cast uneasy eyes everywhere…the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end; he stopped suddenly, motioning for Elisabeth and Raoul to stay behind. Erik continued cautiously, looking at each monument, statue, and tombstone as he walked. Something was odd…Erik heard an odd scratching noise…as if something hard was being rubbed against something of the same consistency…Erik turned as he heard Raoul shout:

"Erik! LOOK OUT!"

Erik turned, feeling the world slow around him. He saw the large statue, saw the little man pushing and prying against a bit of leverage he found usable in a large piece of wood…the statue was falling forward, much to the little man's delight…Erik saw the huge piece of stone leaning toward him…he didn't have time to move…this was his moment of death. He kept his eyes wide open, refusing to shut them as the realization of failure filled him…he had failed Christine, failed Elisabeth…failed himself. Erik stared in horror…and then felt a hard push against his side. He savored the pain as he flew through the air, landing awkwardly on top of a stone tombstone. His head screamed in agony as he collided with the ornament wings of the angel he hit; he felt the warm blood begin to flow from underneath his mask. Erik heard a grunt…

Erik looked back at where he had been standing just a few moments previous…and now saw Raoul, pinned against the snow covered ground by the same stone statue that had meant to bring his death…Raoul's upper body was pressed hard against the ground; the statue laid across his legs at his mid-thigh. Erik raced for Raoul just as Elisabeth reached him, screaming and crying into the snow. Erik grabbed for her.

"Elisabeth! I have to…you have to move!" Erik pushed her gently to the side. Raoul favored him with a small smile, his blood rimmed teeth adding a sinister look to his otherwise handsome face.

"Erik…you have to save Christine…you have to…go now…" Erik grabbed Raoul's wrist, checking his pulse…it was racing, but it was strong.

"You foolish fop…why did you do it? Why would you save my life…" Raoul gasped, coughing up blood.

"I did…what I knew...that Christine would have wanted…you're the only one that can save her…"

Erik felt biting tears in his eyes. "I'm going to try to get this off of you, Raoul…"

"NO!" Raoul strained against his position. "Think, Erik…you're suppose to be smarter than me…the statue is acting like a compress…you take it off me, then all the blood will rush to my legs…and promptly bleed out. Not to mention that you need you're strength for the fight ahead."

Erik shook his head. "If I leave the statue on…your legs could die without blood support…you would never walk again." Raoul nodded, indicating that he understood. Erik took off his cloak and jacket. He placed the jacket over Raoul's torso. He replaced his cloak over his own body.

"I am sorry…I need the cloak. You must stay awake Raoul…I will not see you die. You must not sleep…no matter how it might beckon to you." Erik heard Nathan's evil laughter from up ahead. "Elisabeth, stay with Raoul…take this." He handed her his revolver. "You know how to use this…aim twice, shoot once." Elisabeth nodded, her eyes bright with despairing tears.

Erik continued on alone, leaving Elisabeth and Raoul. Raoul shuddered slightly.

"Elisabeth…"

She leaned down, cradling his head in her lap. "I'm here, Raoul…"

"I never told you…I love you, Elisabeth…from the first day I saw you…now, it seems too late…"

Elisabeth shook her head furiously. "It is not too late! I love you too, Raoul…and you will live! You will live…for if you die, my heart will die with you."

Raoul smiled and reached his hand up to touch a strand of Elisabeth's hair. "I'm glad that it's you…it's your face that I will see last…it will be imprinted in my mind always…"

"No Raoul…you will not die…you will stay with me."

Raoul smiled again. "I love you, Elisabeth…" Raoul's bright hazel eyes filled with tears…and he closed them. Elisabeth screamed into the night.

"NOOOOO!"

* * *

Erik continued deeper into the cemetery, following the demented man's laughter. Erik burned with guilt…his life should have ended, not Raoul's! How he hated his rival! He owed Raoul is life…how could he hate him now? He could not…that was the answer…Raoul's life was in Erik's hands now. Just as Christine's was…

"Ah…you have decided to join us after all, Monsieur. Pity about your Vicomte…I take no blame in the nobility's death…after all, I had meant to crush you!"

Erik turned the corner and saw Nathan standing in front of the steps leading to Christine's father's tomb. The fiend! Nathan noted Erik's surprise, and he laughed deeply.

"You see, Maestro, I was not idle in my two week absence…I learned quite a bit about you and your family…tell me, is Massenet your real name? There are no records, Monsieur, on you…but there was plenty to be found on Christine Massenet…or should I say Daae?" Nathan gestured with his hand at a figure crumpled on the front stairs; her long, thin robe lay open, fluttering slightly in the cold wind. Erik could see that Christine's lips were a deep blue. Even unconscious, Christine was shivering against the biting cold. Erik moved automatically to his wife, but found a rapier in his way.

"No, Monsieur…we have business first, I believe. Elisabeth for Christine."

Erik shook his head, speaking for the first time. "I thought we would come to that snag. I will not trade the two women that I love…I will kill you first."

Nathan laughed. "I think not, Monsieur…you are not hiding in the shadows this time. I see you clearly…and I will not be intimidated by your demon mask. Perhaps I will see what lies beneath…"

Erik pulled his own rapier from his cloak. "If that is your wish…" Nathan gave him a courtesy bow. Erik ignored the etiquette, preferring to watch his movements closely. Nathan shrugged, a careless gesture that indicated to Erik that he would be a shoddy fighter.

"I will enjoy killing you…have I told you about my blade? It is very special…"

Erik did not reply. _He talks as he fights…that is a weakness_. Erik swiped at him with his blade as Nathan artfully darted away. Nathan continued.

"I have always been fond of poison…pills, liquids, gases…what can I say, I have a gift. My blade tip is poisoned with a rather interesting concoction…it will liquefy your lungs as you drown in your own blood…rather nice, isn't it?"

Erik moved in quickly, wrapping his cloak over Nathan's head as he slashed at his legs. He felt his blade score a hit, and Nathan's hiss of pain was a beautiful sound in his mind.

"Damn you, demon! Monster! You think you will win, Monsieur? You have already lost…you just don't know it yet!"

Nathan laughed as he struck with his blade…he saw Erik back up, clutching his arm. Nathan saw Erik's eyes glaze in pain. "It won't be long now, Monsieur…would you like me to explain it to you as you die?" Erik staggered backwards, still clutching his arm. "You will feel the tiny stings of a thousand ants attack your body…your knees will buckle and you will be unable to stand..." Nathan watched as Erik fell to one knee on the cold snow. Nathan moved closer in foolish confidence. He placed his blade into the ground and leaned against it. "Don't worry, Monsieur…you're wife will join you in death…after all, poison is my specialty…I'll make sure to give her something that will be most enjoyable for me to watch!" Nathan threw his head back and laughed heartedly…but found his laughter ceased as a strong rope found its mark around his neck. His eyes went to Erik's form in horror; Erik was standing upright, an evil glint in his eyes.

"How can this be!" Nathan gasped as Erik tightened the Punjab lasso that he had hidden within the folds of his cloak. Erik pulled him close, looking him directly in his eyes.

"You never hit me, bastard…now you will die…a unbearable, excruciating death that will equal every torment you have inflicted upon my sister…you're biggest mistake was trying to take what is mine…and Christine is MINE!" Erik pulled the rope taunt, watching the man's face turn purple. He would not break Nathan's neck…no, he would suffocate him…

_**NOOOOOO!**_

Erik jerked his head. That was Elisabeth. He looked once more into the cloudy eyes of his enemy…and snapped the rope expertly in his hands. A loud, resounding crack filled the air, and Erik dropped the body. He looked at it for a moment. Erik felt nothing…no remorse…only sadness. He raced to his wife, pulling the warm cloak from his body. He gently wrapped it around her.

"Christine? Angel…wake up…Christine…"

Christine opened her eyes cautiously. When her eyes focused on her husband's face, she let out a cry in relief. She flung herself in his arms. "Erik! God help me…Nathan has our children! He's going to kill them!" Erik pulled her close into his arms, stroking her hair.

"No, love…the twins and Brian are safe…they are with Madam Giry. Are you hurt at all?" Christine sobbed against Erik in relief. She pulled away again.

"Erik, I am so sorry about our fight…I feel so foolish now…I love you so much!"

Erik picked her up. "I love you too, Angel…but we have more pressing problems. Raoul is injured…"

Erik carried Christine back toward Raoul and Elisabeth. Elisabeth was lying on the ground next to an unconscious Raoul. Erik placed Christine on the ground.

"Elisabeth…please, go to Christine…I will take care of Raoul."

Elisabeth moved automatically to Christine, who enveloped her in her long arms. Erik kneeled beside Raoul.

"Boy…wake up…it is not yet your time…" Raoul opened his eyes slightly.

"The pain…it's too much, Erik…I can't…" Erik shook his head.

"Listen to me Raoul. I'm going to lift the statue now…you will feel the release of the pressure, but you cannot close your eyes. Listen to my voice, Raoul…do as I say."

Raoul nodded vaguely, and Erik positioned himself over Raoul. He tried to lift the statue…but found that he could not. He turned to Christine and Elisabeth.

"The best I can hope for is to raise it enough for you two to drag Raoul out from underneath…can you do this?" Christine looked at Raoul fearfully, then nodded. Elisabeth had a fierce look on her face. The girls moved to Raoul's shoulders. "On my count…one…two…THREE!" Erik strained against the heavy statue, feeling the stone give way at his touch. It was the most Erik had ever lifted…but he had to hold it. He watched in horror as his wrist twisted before his eyes…he felt the snapping of his wrist bones from the weight of the statue. The pain washed over him, but Erik ignored it. Finally, Christine called to him, and he dropped the statue, grabbing his wrist tightly in an effort to stop the stinging, nauseating pain. Raoul lay still in the snow.

"Is he…all right?" Erik gasped, unable to breathe. He ripped the mask from his face, taking in big gulps of air. Christine gasped as she looked into Erik's face; Erik looked at her in confusion, then remembered the head injury: he must be covered in blood. Christine came forward to check on her husband, but he waved her away gently, still gasping for air. "Is he…conscious?"

Elisabeth looked up, hope in her eyes. "Yes…and the blood is returning to his legs."

"And it doesn't exactly feel wonderful." Raoul added weakly. Erik recovered enough to check him over himself. His legs were not a pretty sight to be had…it was plain that many bones were broken; some jagged pieces had broken the skin. Erik sighed deeply as Raoul began to bleed profusely from the wounds.

"I can mend your bones, Raoul…we need to get you back to the Opera House…infection could set in." Erik thought for a moment. How would they ever get him back to the Opera Populaire on horseback? Christine seemed to read his mind.

"Nathan had a buggy, Erik…it's parked at the entrance." Erik looked her over in concern.

"Are you sure he didn't hurt you, love? No pain?"

Christine smiled shakily. "No…I'm all right."

Erik turned his attention to Raoul. "I'm going to have to carry you, Raoul…"

Raoul looked at him wearily. "Just don't drop me, no matter the urge you may have to do so…"

"I shall contain myself of the whim, Vicomte."

* * *

The ride back to the Opera Populaire was one part joyous and one part worry. Christine was safe and sound, albeit a bit cold…she quickly warmed in her husband's embrace. Elisabeth was safe as well, and she would never worry about her stepfather again. Erik had killed Nathan, which cause him immense pleasure…but all were worried about Raoul's well being. Erik carried him into the Opera Populaire in the wee hours of the morning and began the tedious work of trying to save his legs. Erik worked hand and hand with the Opera House doctor…surgery was necessary. After several long hours of work, Erik looked at Raoul's legs in satisfaction. He traced one of the long scars from surgery…Raoul would have many scars from his ordeal. While Raoul slept off the effects of his impromptu surgery, Erik finally allowed himself to be checked over. He insisted he set his own wrist bone, however; even Erik could not have contained the howl of pain that echoed through the Opera House.

A little while later, his wrist wrapped tightly in white gauze, Erik sat with Elisabeth in Raoul's room. He slept peacefully, making little noise. Erik reached out and grabbed Elisabeth's shoulder.

"Things will get better, Elisabeth…they have to."

Elisabeth nodded, then turned her attention back to Raoul. "He told me that he loved me."

"And this was surprising to you?"

"No…I just-I didn't realize how much I cared for him until the moment I thought I would lose him forever."

Erik smiled sadly. "I know the feeling, little sister. Just don't take your love for him for granted."

"I'm glad to hear you say that, Erik…because I was going to ask her to marry me."

Erik glanced at Raoul in surprise, noting he was awake and trying to rise a little from the bed. Erik came forward, pushing him gently back onto the bed. "Don't try that, Raoul…it is too soon." Elisabeth was standing behind Erik, tears streaming down her face.

"Do you mean that Raoul? You want me to be your wife?"

Raoul nodded. "More than anything…" He choked, his words catching in his throat. "I can't live without you, Elisabeth…please, say you'll be mine…"

Erik moved away as Elisabeth came forward. She hugged Raoul gently, kissing him hard on the lips. "Of course I will marry you…that is, if my brother has no objections?" Elisabeth asked teasingly. Erik hesitated, then took Elisabeth's hand and placed it firmly within Raoul's.

"I would have it no other way, Elisabeth. I will welcome Raoul into our family." Elisabeth sobbed, hugging her brother tightly. Raoul beamed, happiness shining from every visible part of his face. Erik looked at Raoul sternly.

"Besides…you know exactly what I am capable of. I will not have to 'explain' my ways to a stranger. If you hurt her…" Erik left the thought empty, allowing Raoul to use his vivid imagination of what Erik would do to him. Erik sobered.

"I did the best I could with your legs, Raoul…we won't know the extent of the damage until you are fully healed. You must face the possibility of never walking again."

Raoul nodded grimly, his eyes never leaving Elisabeth's. "I understand, Erik…thank you…my friend." Raoul added the last part tentatively. Erik nodded and grasped his shoulder.

"I can never fully repay you for saving my life, Raoul…we will always have our differences," Erik said, then glanced at Elisabeth, "but we will also have our similarities…now, if you'll excuse me, I really must go and find my wife."

Erik left the room, leaving Elisabeth and Raoul free to share the togetherness that only the two of them could share.

Erik found his wife carefully smoothing Aurora's blonde locks. Erik sneaked up behind her and wrapped his strong arms around her, burying his head in her thick locks. Christine smiled as her husband breathed gently onto her neck. Christine turned into his embrace.

"I will never lose you again, my love…I have told Stefan that I merely want to be a Maestro…it means less money, but there are more important things…I'll be able to write my music at home…I'll help out more around the house…oh, Christine! Can you ever forgive me for my horrible words to you? I will do anything to take back those words from your memory."

Christine kissed him, teasing him gently with her motions against his body. "Anything, love?" He growled within her mouth, causing shivers to run up her spine.

"Yes…" Erik scooped Christine up from the floor and moved into the room across the hall. He laid her gently on the bed, admiring her beauty as her hair fanned out underneath her, like a dark halo. Erik kissed her deeply. "I love you, Christine…"

"And I, you, Angel…"

The early morning hours became their night as their bodies and souls united once again in a familiar burning passion.

* * *

(One year later)

"I'm nervous…"

Erik sighed wearily. "Why, Elisabeth? You look beautiful…I made your damn dress myself, you can't help but be pleased with it…your friends and family are here, all cheering you on…and I'm here, standing like a fool, waiting for you to make up your mind to walk down the aisle." Elisabeth fingered the lace on her wedding veil, and peeked once again through the sheer curtains at Raoul standing at the end of the aisle with the priest. He looked impeccable as always, leaning slightly on the twin canes before him. Raoul was looking toward the back anxiously…

"Are you sure you want to marry the fop?"

Elisabeth turned her attention back to Erik. "You bet your life on it…"

"Then let's get moving all ready!"

Erik flashed an arm, cuing Donovan to play the wedding march. The familiar music filled the church as Erik and Elisabeth started slowly down the aisle. The gasps that followed them were in awe of Elisabeth; she was the picture of a blushing bride. Erik glanced at his own wife, standing in her place as maid of honor, Meg beside her. Christine flashed him a brilliant smile, and Erik felt his knees weaken at the mere image of her…he continued down the aisle. Finally reaching the end, he stood stiffly, refusing to look at the grinning Raoul.

The wizen old priest spoke: "Who gives this young woman in marriage?"

"I, Erik Massenet, do…As her brother; I give her respectfully to the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny as his wife." He recited the words Elisabeth had told him to say, though he had tweaked them to his own liking. The priest nodded, and Erik took his seat in the front row. The ceremony passed in a blur, and before Erik knew it, Raoul had leaned in to give his bride her first kiss as a Vicomtess. Erik closed his eyes, thankful that for once, everything in his life was perfect...

The reception lasted well into the small hours of the night. Erik was exhausted; he sat limply in a chair, watching people dance around the floor. Christine broke away from her dance with Stefan to sit next to him.

"So, how do you feel, love?" Christine asked, waving her arms to indicate Raoul and Elisabeth dancing stiffly in one place. Raoul's legs had never fully healed, and he would eventually be confined to a wheelchair…but right now, he had mobility just with the use of his canes. Erik was impressed that Raoul didn't just give up and use the chair…he had even made Raoul two beautiful, unbreakable canes. Erik sighed and glanced at his beautiful wife.

"I feel old, Christine…I feel old." Christine laughed.

"That would explain the grey hairs I'm finding…" she laughed harder as Erik's indignant face glared at her.

"I do not have grey hairs…and if I do, it's because of you!"

"Or the twins…"

"Or the twins…" he agreed.

"Or Brian…"

"Or Brian…"

"Or the new baby…"

"Or the-WHAT!" Erik exclaimed suddenly. "What did you say, Christine?"

Christine just glowed. "I went to the doctor this morning…we're going to have another baby, Erik…" Erik just stared at her. He rose from the chair and pulled her up with him, whirling her around in the air. He kissed her deeply.

Erik slowly lower Christine back to the ground as a slow waltz began to play. He bowed slightly to her.

"May I have this dance, my love?"

As their twirled around the dance floor, Erik inspected the faces around him. Elisabeth, his beloved sister, was married and happy…and Erik was pleased that the Vicomte was happy about his marriage to…_He better be_, Erik thought. Stefan was dancing with Madam Giry, who was blushing an awful lot…and Meg was flirting with one of Raoul's cousins. He turned his attention back to his wife and thought of their first two years of marriage. If they could survive those horrible years, they could survive anything…but no matter how many haunting things happened, Erik could always count his good fortune: he had found Elisabeth and Brian…Christine had given him two beautiful daughters. He closed his eyes as Christine pressed against him closely…Erik had waited his whole life to feel love…now, it seemed, his life could truly begin.

**The End**

* * *

**Author's note 2**: I want to thank every single person who has read and reviewed…I have had so many wonderfully comments, and I can never truly tell you guys how much it has mean to me that you have liked this story…It will be sad to leave this story…but I loved every minute of writing it. I also have to say that I have stolen two lines from JK Rowling in this chapter…I couldn't resist, since HP is on my brain constantly (along with sexy Erik) I also stole from Yoda : Do, or do not…there is no try. I figured it was something that Erik would think…I wish everyone the best, and remember: EC is meant to be!

**To: BroadwayGirl257**: I was deeply touched as I read your review…I wish you had reviewed more so I could have gotten to know you! I shall think about your request for a sequel, though I don't have any plans for one as of yet…I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I feel tears coming on (for me, anyway…) Thank you so much, my new friend…I hope to hear from you again.

I would especially like to thank **Lin**. I am so very glad that I have gotten to know you through your reviews and emails…I hope you continue to enjoy Asia, and I will miss you once this story is done (which is now! SOBS, runs to room so I can be consoled by sexy Red Death Erik plushie) Love and Hugs, Amber

**P.S.** This chapter has over eleven thousand words in it. I hope that makes everybody happy! It certainly made me happy…If you liked this last chapter, please, please, please REVIEW!

**P.S. 2:** **To: Son Kat**: Update soon, I beg you! Make this my last request…


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